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IN MEMORY 



Caroline Joy French Morton, 



WIFE OF J. STERLlNCi MORTON, 



ARBOR LODGE, (NEAR) NEBRASKA CITY, 



OTOE COUNTY, \P:HRASKA. 







SHtPARD & JOHNSTON, PRINTERS. 140, 142. 144, 146 MONROE ST.. CHICAGO. 



NOTE. 

Two principal motives have prompted the printing of this 
little l)ook : one was to do homage to the memory of the sub- 
ject of it ; the other was to help and inspire others, and especially 
her children, to be as she was and to do as she did. 

The record of her life is brief. It is strange that so little 
time should suffice to recount what the memory recalls of the 
events in the life of a dear one who has gone from us while 
the heart is full of affection and mourning. But no attem^^t is 
made here to give a record of all that may be recalled of a lile 
very full of kindly acts. All that has been sought has been to 
give in the simplest narrative of facts a truthful portraiture of 
character. 

It may heliJ those who knew and U)ved her to remember her. 
It is hoped that it will h.'l[) both them and others to follow 
her steps and to imitate her \irtues. 

J. M. WOOLWOKIH. 
L'oKii.ANDT, Omaua: Cukist.mas, iSSi. 



CAROLINE JOY MORTON. 



If it has ever fallen to your lot to stand by the side of the 
form of a friend whom you have long dearly loved and whose 
spirit has gone forth, you have, I am very sure, been certain 
that this is not the end of life. All the cares and labors and 
toils, all the struggles and strifes and efforts which have filled 
these years, now over, could not have come to this impotent 
conclusion. The strenuous ^nv\t which, growing day by day, 
had come to the full maturity of manhood or womanhood, could 
not have been now suddenly and forever quenched. Whatever 
your doul)ts before this experience came upon you, now you 
have an assurance that there is a life beyond death, and that in 
that life you will be conscious of one another and rejoice together 
again, and more, far more, than ever. It was to you the one 
consolation in the midst of a sorrow which would else have 
been despair. 



8 IX MEMOKIAM. 



Caroline Joy Morton was born on the 9th of August, 1833, 
at Hallowell, in Maine. Her father was Hiram Joy. He was 
of Irish descent. His ancestry, as far back as the family records 
in this country go, were sea-laring peojile. They who go down 
to the sea in ships learn to cast out fear, and meet danger and 
toil and watching with steady nerve and toughened muscle. 
Their children have a heritage of courage and resolution, and 
the breath of the salt .sea air is their constant stimulant. Her 
mother was Caroline Hayden. She, too, was reared in tlie 
rugged hill country of Maine, and breathed the same strong air 
and dwelt among the same stern and vigorous scenes. 

Hiram Joy, when a l)oy, was api)renticed to the trade of a 
saddler and harness-maker. Hard, steady, honest work was his 
lot, and he bent l(j it with a native fidelity and docility. And 
he had a strong desire to help himself His education was 
such as the district school of those early davs, in tliat new 
country, could gi\e. It was not much, but what it was he made 
wholly his own. And so heritage and educ ation and ( ircumstance 
all ((jntributeil to make liim a man — a strong, hard-working, 
practical, tenacious man. In 1834 he remo\ed to Detroit, 



CAROLINE JOY MORTON. 



Michigan, and followed the trade to which he had been bred. 
He had early success in it, and kept to it witli his natural force 
and tenacity. In the spring of 1835, after a violent iUness of 
a few weeks, his wife died, leaving the little girl, who was the 
only pledge of their married life. They only who have had the 
same experience, or have seen close at hand others in like con- 
dition, can understand what a calamity and what a risk were 
here. The desolate father and the unconscious child, — what 
now should be their way in the world? He was of a temper 
and a training to find distraction in his work ; but she, the 
little girl, not able to care for herself, nor even know the nature 
of her loss : according as she should foil into good hands or 
ill, so was she to be and so was to be her life. Of all sweet 
charities, the care for little friendless children is the sweetest — 
in hospitals and orphanages, if more cannot be done; but a 
home for the tender soul made its own by the love and pity of 
strangers is the best refuge. It is a sad thought of this world 
and the men and women in it, how many motherless children 
there are and how few such homes are open to them. 

But happily the little Caroline was one of these few, and she 



10 IX MKMORIAM. 



never ceased through all her years to bless her lot ; and with 
good reason. Her mother had near neighbors wliom she loved 
and trusted, and to whom had not come the gift of children; 
and with her dying breath she charged them with her baby, to 
rear in virtue and all godliness of living. Deacon David French 
and Cynthia Eldred French were fit to be so trusted : mild in 
their wavs, loving in their natures, and Christian in their lives, 
they accepted the charge and they kept it with fidelity. After- 
ward she bore the name of Caroline Joy French. I'ntil her 
marriage their house was her home, and till tlieir death they 
were to her father and mother, and slie was to them a daughter. 
In 1S50 her father Joy removed from Detroit to Chicago. He 
met the usual vicissitudes of life, but accumulated an ample 
fortune, enjoyed general respect antl confidence, and died in 
1868. 

Caroline was first sent to an Ei)iscopal school in Canada, 
o])])C)site Detrf)it, where she remained until slie was nearly four- 
teen years old. She was tlien rem()\ed to the \\'esleyan Seminary 
at Albion, Michigan, remaining there until nearly seventeen. 
She was then placed at the celebrated school for girls m Ctica, 



CAROLINE JOY MORTON. I I 



New York, which was under the charge of the Misses Kelley, 
graduating in her twentieth year. Her school life was much the 
same as that of such girls generally. Tractable, diligent, con- 
scientious in the jjrompt performance of all her duties, and at 
the same time genial, vivacious, generous and happy, she was a 
favorite with teachers and scholars alike. To her Alma Mater 
she always bore a loving loyalty, and to the Misses Kelley a 
most affectionate respect and admiration. It always pleased her 
to speak of them and the school, and she did so as one 
appreciating what both had done for her. 

While she thoroughly mastered what are generally called the 
solid studies of such schools, she \>as an apt and delighted 
pupil in music, drawing and painting. Her love of music was 
natural and very strong. She was well instructed upon the 
piano-forte. When she left school she was a very fine performer 
on that instrument, her years being { (insidered ; and in the 
other arts she showed taste, skill, and a desire to excel. So 
many young ladies do something in thesi- ways and give promise 
of excellence, that it may seem super l] nous to mention them. 
The difference is, that generally when The serious cares of life 



12 IN MKMORIAM. 



press upon them they cease their practice, and soon lose the 
skill whicli they have gained ; while all through her life she 
almost daily found time, in the midst of many duties and occu- 
pations, to study and improve herself in these accomplishments. 
Her best education was at home. Through her girlliood her 
foster-parents loved her tenderly, as the best natural parent 
loves his own child. I5ut their affection was ju(li( ious. She 
was made to understand tliat her business in her girlhood was 
to do everything, and omit nothing, that would improve her 
physical, mental and moral nature. She was taught that health 
was to 1)J cared for as well as books, and that kindliness, 
charity, and regard and respect for others, were as necessary as 
any advantage personal to herself. Definite religious training 
was imparted. The clear, decisive, positive teachings ol religion 
were constantlv impressed upon her mind, and she accei>ted 
them with dot ility and faith. She never forgt)t them : and 
when in her turn ( hildren were given to her, she seriously and 
rigidly imposed on them what she had received. But she was 
not onlv taught all souml religious knowledge, but she was 
trained to tiie conscientious performance of religious duties. Slie 



CAROLINE 1<)V MORION. 13 



was not reared in a dark, austere, formal, ascetic system. Reli- 
gion was to her the thankful enjoyment of all the good gilts of 
God, and her service to her divine Lord was willing, sweet 
and sincere. 

There was also another line of insliuction for lier. Her 
mother carefully taught her the duties of good housewilery. 
The art of wholesome cooking, and the other work of the well- 
regulated kitchen, and the care and service of chamber, dining- 
room and i)arlor. were familiar to her even as a child. And 
amidst it all was one lesson of prime value wliich she learned 
and never forgot : it was the ethics of use and the immorality 
of waste. She was generous ; she was made on too large and 
liberal a mould to be penurious, or to deny to herself or her 
children, or any others whose pleasure was in her care, any 
l)roper indulgence ; but she was taught that wastefulness, even 
in the little things about the house, as well as criminal extrava- 
gance, was wrong and led to other wrongs. 

At this time she was in ])erson and mien a striking and 
handsome young woman ; tall, slender, vigorous, active and 
graceful, with luxuriant brown hair, hazel eyes, clear dark com- 



H 



IN MK.MoRlAM. 



plexion, always dressed with taste and a due regard to occasion 
and circumstance, she was observed and admired by all who saw 
her. Her genial, cordial, gentle manners ; her direct, honest, 
vivacious conversation ; her pure, truthful, sincere nature, drew 
to her the affections of all who knew her. 

Her circumstances were very happy. Her father lavished 
ujion his only child all his affections ; and they who stood to 
her as father and mother were very indulgent, giving her all 
that wealth can buy and the largest freedom consistent with 
their Christian convictions and teachings. And so it was that, 
inheriting from her ancestry, hardened by the sea. a strong, 
resolute and vigorous nature, receiving from those who were 
charged with her care the nurture and training of loving, 
Christian parents, and educated in the best methods of the best 
schools, she entered upon the duties and responsibilities of lite 
an admirable Christian woman. lCver\body wished her Godspeed. 

At the age of fourteen s]ie was engaged to be married to 
him who b.-came her husband. Nor in all her girlhood had 
she any experience incompatible with her promise, nor did her 
heart ever for a moment draw back from it. In fulfillment ot 



CAROLINK 1()V MORTON. 



that early betrothal, on the 30th of October, 1854, at the resi- 
dence of Mr. David French, corner of Congress and IJrusli 
streets, Detroit, she was married to J. Sterling Morton by the 
Rev. Joshua Cooke, minister of the Jefferson Avenue Presby- 
terian Church of that city. The young husband was her senior 
about a year: he had been educated at the University of 
Michigan and Union College. He inclined to adopt journalism 
as his profession. On the day of their marriage the ycnmg pan- 
bade adieu to the homes of their youth and turned their faces 
westward, to make for themselves a home in Nebraska. It was 
a new land. Six months had not passed since the Intlians had 
ceded to the United States their title to this territory. Few 
pioneers had penetrated its borders. It was an absolutely 
unoccupied and vacant country. 

There was a certain romance in this adventure. They gave 
up homes that had been made for them and the ministries 
which had there waited on them, the culture and elegancies to 
which thev were wont, the indulgences and pleasures of cities 
and of competence, for a new land where even grain for 
food was yet to be sown, houses to be built, and the first 



l6 IN MKMOKIAM. 



foundations of society to be laid. They came in a spirit of 
adventure, to do for themselves what their fathers had done 
before them : to begin their lives with the life of a new com- 
munity, to impress themselves on its institutions, and become a 
part of that great moral and political establishment which should 
fill these regions with a consistent, organized and beneficent 
societv. It was the kuiic large spirit which from the earliest 
history of men has drixen them always westward from the 
homes of their childhood to new countries, where they should 
plant new seats and establish a new civilization. 

This young woman, vigorous with the nature which she 
inherited from a stalwart ancestry,' brave, resolute, self-reliant, 
joined her young husband in this work, and bore her part in it 
with a heart never for a moment doubtful of the issue. The 
se(niel shows that she was of the right stuff for the task, and 
that her reward was eipial to the effort anil the sa( rifue. 

llow far their new home was from the phu e of their child- 
hootl ma\- be seen by tracing their journey and the modes ot 
their travel. They went b\- rail from Chicago to Alton on the 
Mississippi river, thence to St. Louis on that river by steamer; 



CARULINK JOV .MORTON. 1/ 

from St. Louis up the Missouri to St. Joseph liy steamboat, 
and from there to Council lUuffs by stage. Tlie whole distance 
occupied seven full days and nights of hard, tedious riding. 

Early in November, 1854, Mrs. Morton wixs settled with 
her husband in Bellevue. Bellevue was the initial point of 
settlement in the new Territory. For many years before, Col. 
Peter A. Sari)y, representative of the American Fur Company, 
had here a trading post at which many treaties between the 
Government and the Indians were negotiated and executed. 
Here, too, was the extensive mission, of the Presbyterian Church, 
to the Omahas, under the charge of the Rev. William Hamil- 
ton. The governor of the Territory, Hon. Francis Hurt, had 
established himself at Bellevue, and it was expected that it 
would be made the capital of the new Territory. 

The home of the young i)ioneers was a log cabin of two 
rooms. It was upon the bluff, about a mile below where the 
dejjot of the Burlington and Missouri River Railroad Company 
now stands, and where the Missouri sweeps by in a wide and 
easy curve. In the mild, sunny fall of the year the spot was 
one of beauty. The \alley, dressed in the dull russet of the 



I 8 IN MKMORIAM. 



season, stretched many miles away : the view was met to the 
east by rugged l)hitT> far beyond the river on the Iowa side, 
and by gentle soft hills on the west : while up and down, the 
river, its current not turbid to the view, but silvered in the 
distance, ran on in its (piiet course through miles and miles of 
the sleei)y valley. Below the bluff on which the cabin stood, 
all that remained of the tribe of the Oniahas had their tepes, 
and were the nearest neighbors of the new comers. 

It was a strange experience for the young wife. She was 
almost alone. In the little hamlet the only other women were 
the wives of the Hon. Fenner Ferguson, the Rev. William 
Hamilton, Mr. Tozier, Mr. Israel Bennett, and perhaps one or 
two others whose names cannot be recalled. \\"nh her own 
hands she cooked such hard fare as could be had, and per- 
formed all the other offices of the little home. I'.ut there was 
no sigh for the good things left behind ; no contrasting the 
hard present with the pleasant past. She looked with caretul 
and abiding hope and faith to the future. alwa\s seeing in it 
honor and abundance and happiness for her and for him to 
whom she had given lierself. There came often to them others 



CAROLINE JOV MORTON. IQ 

who had entered on the same life, to claim their hospitality and 
their cheer, and a hearty welcome and brave words were given 
out of a generous and sNinpathizing heart. Many of these 
guests are gone, but some remain who recall with peculiar 
pleasure the humble home, the }oung wife, the cheerful, merry 
words, the welcome, and the generous hospitality. 

In a few weeks after his arrival in the Territory, Governor 
Hurt died. The Hon. Thomas B. Cumming, the Secretary, 
succeeded to the executive, and convened the first Legislature 
at Omaha, where the capital was permanently fixed. 

This dampened the hopes of Bellevue. and in April, 1855, 
Mr. Morton and his wife removed to Nebra.ska City. He 
"claimed" the tract of land near that city, where they were 
always afterward to live, and in June they began to build the 
home which is known as Arbor Lodge. 

Here now began in truth the real work of life : the making 
of a home in which should dwell not only herself, of whom she 
took the least account, but her husband and the children who 
should be gi\en them; in which should dwell, besides, the 
undoubtin'f affections of husband and wife, the kindly charities 



20 IN MKMoKIAM. 



of generous souls, the woman's ministries for all within the 
household, and the reverent, constant and faithful obedience of 
God's holy will and commandments. 

'rhe place was the naked prairie, except where a little stream 
with wooded banks divided the field in two. The strong, heavy 
grass formed a tough sod wliich had never been broken. No 
sign of the white man's abode or steps was anywhere to be 
seen. It was an utter solitude, save as the bright sun shone 
through the clear, dry air down upon the green grass, ever 
waving in the continual wind. The young i)eople together 
marked the si)ace for the house; a slight elevation, from which 
could be seen the wide valley and the distant hill on which 
Kearney was afterward built. The house was a long, one-story 
building, with ami)le porch in front. Its rooms were, for the 
country and the time, large, and all its parts betokened comfort 
and hosi)itality. It was the good beginning of a home. The 
wife entered most heartily into the work of reclaiming from its 
wild nature the land about, joining to her husband's her own 
ta.ste in laying off roads and lanes, and planting trees and 
shrubs and hedges. Tlie lough sod was broken and sown. 



CAROLIXK JOV MORTON. 21 

fences were built, and a\eniies of trees were marked and 
planted. The work went on year by \ear. The soil became 
soft and tractable under al)undant culture. The orchards of all 
fruits of this climate were planted, a few acres at first, more 
and more every year; barns, stables, sheds and cribs for grain 
were built. The animals of the farm, of the best blood, were 
bought and bred and reared. Flowers and (lowering shrubs and 
vines, and evergreens in great abundance, attested the woman's 
presence. Time lent its aid ; and the whole, along with the 
mistress and the family, trees of ornament and fruit, hedges 
and vines and flowers, under her nursing oversight grew, until 
Arbor Lodge, with its more than seventy acres of orchard of 
every kind of fruit, and all its other acres rich and mellow, and 
rejoicing in the good culture it had received, became a very 
bower, well described by the name it bore. 

It was not, of course, all her work ; but it was all work 
done under her inspiration. She knew every tree and shrub 

and vine, and of each had some swet;t memory, and many were 

» 
called by names given l)y her or her boys in token and memo- 
rial of .some sweet association. There was the little coniter 



IN ME.MORIAM. 



brought by her own hand from the mountains, and guarded 
now by a stone, marked with an inscription none can read 
without a tear. There was the apple tree of special flavor, 
whose fruit she most enjoyed, and known as "Mother's Tree." 
And so it was all about. The place is now, to those who loved 
her most, all alive in every spot with memories of her: her 
spirit, as it formed and guided and nourished, seems now to 
dwell in every thing. 

A few years ago the house, which had shared the constant 
growth, room being added to room, as there was need, was too 
straightened for the fLimily, and was unequal to the taste and 
wishes of its mistress. The faithfulness and real poetry of the 
dwellers in it now showed themselves. The house was not aban- 
doned or cast away and a new one built. The very timbers and 
frame and structure of the old one were sacred. Whatever 
greater elegance might be had in a new ht)use, it could never 
have the far higher grace of association. Anil so it was kept, 
built ui)on and rebuilt, and there it ^taiuls to-ilay, an ample, 
handsome, delightful mansion, but still the house in whi. h this 
gentleman and lady began their life and have reared their ( hildren. 



CAROLINE JOV MORTON. 23 

It is within the renovated, enlarged and rebuilt house that 
Mrs. Morton is most seen. Music of the best and highest 
order always sounded through this home, and there stands the 
piano which shall never more under her skilled fingers sing for 
us songs without words. L'p;jn it is the cover those same 
fingers embroidered ; and so clothed are table, chair and sofa 
in every room. Paintings of decided merit, irrespective of the 
painter's name, are on the walls, — some her own work and 
some her choice. Bric-a-brac, some collected, and much more 
decorated or made by her, are everywhere. The whole house 
seems written all over, in every place, with the sacred words, 
" wife and mother," for all was done by her for husband and 
for sons. What a contrast was Arbor Lodge when her eyes 
closed on it forever and when first they saw it ; and what a 
life to have wrought that work ! 

Her first boy, Joy, was born in Detroit, on the 27th of 
September, 1855. Then, on the 2 2d of May, 1857, came Paul, 
in the same place. Mark was born on the 2 2d of November, 
1858, at the hotel in Omaha then known as the Herndon 
House, now occupied by the Union Pacific Railroad Company 



24 



IX MEMORIAM. 



for its general offices; and Carl was l)orn at Arbor Lodge on 
the 1 8th of February, 1865. 

Arbor Lodge is Mrs. Morton's memorial ; but she lives 
truly in these sons. As she in lier youth had been trained and 
educated with care, affection, a discreet indulgence and well 
tempered severity, so she reared her children. What most she 
taught them was truth, sincerity, fidelity, respect for men and 
reverence for God. Much she did by precept, but far more by 
constant and intimate companionshi]). She entered heartily into 
all that interested them. Together they often went out, with 
generous provision for the hunger which was sure to come, and 
spent the whole day in the fields and woods, gathering nuts, 
lichens, ferns, shrubs and flowers: always carefully di^^l)osing of 
the treasures that they brought home, so that they might after- 
ward be put to use. And often, too, they passed the whole 
day together in the house, enjoying music, games, reading, and 
the telling of tales full of humor and fun. In the midst of all 
she was the heedful mother, correcting faults and approving 
what was good ; and al.>o a sister, putting no restraint on any 
of them, and sharing every feeling, impulse and emotion. The 



CAKOLIXK I<)V MORTON. 25 



mother was in this woman. How her eyes were gladdened by 
what she saw ! She heUl her early marriage to be the happy 
circumstance of her lite, and she rejoiced that the same good 
fortune came to Joy and Paul ; and when they brought their 
wives to her, she took them to her heart as daughters. Those 
were the radiant days of her life. 

She was too good a woman ever to forget that when she 
was a little motherless child a kind friend had taken her home 
and reared her with judicious care. She was always remem- 
bering this when she saw another such an one, and her heart 
went out to it with especial tenderness and sympathy. Her 
friend Mrs. Chandler died very suddenly, leaving behind a 
little one who needed a home and a mother's care. She took 
the little Dela to Arbor Lodge to rear and train and make a 
woman of, such as otliers had made her. With what love and 
tenderness and patience and judicious care she did her duty to 
the child, and with what anxiety she gave n\) the charge when 
she gave up all the rest of the world, the\- only know who saw 
it all. 

In 1S58, Mr. Morton was appointed Secretary of the Terri- 



26 IN' MKMORIAM. 



tory, and much of his term he was acting Governor. The 
duties of his office called him to the cai)ital. and he had his 
familv with him. Omaha, at that time, was a town of perhaps 
two thousand inhabitants. There were enough to make a 
pleasant society, but not so many but all could know one 
another. During her residence there Mrs. Morton entered very 
heartily into social life. She was genial, affable, charitable. 
She was at this time a handsome lady ; perhai)s she never 
appeared to better advantage than she did then. Many who 
shared that early life remember her as she was then with 
especial pleasure. But it was in the society of her own home 
that she held the largest place. In the earliest days, when 
hospitality was a necessity, she learnetl, if ever she needed to 
learn, to exercise it generously and graciously. Her door was 
always open to all comers. The poor were never sent empty 
away, and her friends shared whatever she had with an unlimited 
freedom. Arbor Lodge was always a gay !n)use. It was a 
place of dancing and games and jollity. The young especially 
resorted thither with an assurance of welcome- and pleasure. 

.\m\ there was another charit)- whi( h this good lady exer- 



CAROLINE lOV MoRTON. 2/ 



cised : the care and help of the poor. Those whom others did 
not care for slie took as her own charge. There was a poor 
half-breed Indian boy, who had l)een pn; at the school near 
Nebraska City by his father, but wIkj had lieen neglected by 
him. He drifted away from good influences, and at last com- 
mitted some trifling offense, for which he was lodged m jail. 
The story accidentally came to Mrs. Morton's ears, and at once 
she set about securing his release and providing him with 
proper care. She asked no aid in the task, but went about 
from man to man all over the town, getting their signatures to 
a petition for his discharge; and having gained that, she col- 
lected money to send him to his leather, seven hundred miles 
away. When a neighbor told her that her servant, a poor 
motherless girl, aspired to be a teacher, Mrs. Morton adopted 
the case as espec ially her own charge. She inspired the girl to 
educate herself and then to secure a place in the country to 
teach. When she was suffering excruciating pains in her last 
sickness she heard that there wis a vacancy in the High School 
in Nebraska City, which she thought the young teacher could 
fill. Dr. E. M. Whitten, her attending physic ian, was a member 



28 IN Mi:M<»kIAM. 



of the Board of Education, and she besought his aid. He dis- 
couraged the effort, because there were many other applicants 
who had friends of influence. But Mrs. Morton was not to be 
put off: indeed, in tlie \ery fact that the girl was friendless 
she found reason for lier ai)pointnient. The evening came on 
which the election by the board was to be had. The doctor 
was attending her, but, suffering greatly as she was, she refused 
his services, and charged him to hasten to the meeting and tell 
the members that this was a poor friendless girl, who had 
educated herself and was worth)- of the place; that she would 
go to them in jjcrson antl beg the appointment but she was 
too ill to do so; and from her sick bed she asked this favor 
of them. When the doctor came the next morning, heetUess 
of her own (ondition, her first cpiestion was, "What did the 
Board do?" When told that they had unanimously granted 
her recjuest, the expression of gratitude and happiness on her 
worn and emaciated features told of the self- forgetful, generous 
nature of tlie invalid. Her suffering oidy made her more heed- 
ful of others. Her approat h to the gates of Paradise made 
her N])irit more than ever lo\ing and charitable. 



CARoI.IXi: JOV MORTON. 29 



Mrs. Morton was not a liiglilv intellectual lad\' : she made 
no such pretensions. Her numerous occupations ami her im- 
])erious duties in so many directions did not leave her time or 
strength or inclination for studies and labors of a severe char- 
acter ; l)ut she was thoroughly intelligent. She kept well up 
with current literature and with ])assing events. She was well 
informed upon the topics which occujMed jniblic attention, po- 
litical, social and religious, and she discussed them with dis- 
crimination and temperance. 

The relations of Mr. and Mrs. Morton were singularl)' happy. 
It was in their childhood that they plighted their affections, 
and in their earl\' maturity that they were married. There was 
too much force and vigor in the wife for the man to outgrow 
or weary of her. Witli no separate wish or ambition. l)ut with 
common purp )ses and commDn views of lite, its just modes 
and aims, they were each the complement of the other, and 
the two together were one. To her, her husband was the 
admirable man, She shared his trials, his hopes, his disappoint- 
ments, his ambitions, his growth, and rejoiced to be in all 
good and ill fortune his true helpmeet. To be his wife in all 



30 IN MI-.MnRIAM. 



service and affection was her i)ride and joy. This was the 
peculiar felicity of a very hajjpy life. 

And now, just as the hard work was done and the full 
reward was at hand, the end came. The beautiful house, the 
perfected homestead, rooms and decorations, trees, flowers, walks 
and drives, animals and servants, and friends and sons and 
husband, memories, charities, friendships, affections, and the dear 
light of day, — just when they were most cherished, were all to 
be given up. She looked bac k 011 all these blessings, not with 
repining, but with devout gratitude to the (liver of all good 
gifts. She looked forwartl with the same courage and faith 
whi( h she bore through life. She always had a perfect con- 
tentment with what was given her ; she had realized all she 
aspired to. In her last illness, she said : •" My sons have ne\er 
made my hair gray. Very few women have lived so long and 
so hapjjily in a human home and sheil so few tears as I." It 
was her habit during her husband's absence to keeji a daily 
diar\-. The last entry is dated February 2. 1S82. She writes: 
'• I am suffering great pain to-day, but perhaps when the trees 
blossom again and the birds begin to sing I shall be better ; but 



CA KOI, INK loV MORTON. 3^ 



when I look around me and see how comfortable a home I have, 
I feel very thankful, and had almost as lief be sick as not." 

Mrs. Morton, by a fall on the third day of July, 1880, 
injured her knee. She gave it little attention, and shortly after- 
ward had another misfortune with it. She suffered great pain. 
The best medical attendance failed to relieve her, and the 
disease progressed rapidly. During her illness prayers were read 
for her at every service in St. Mary's Church, where she was a 
communicant, the knowledge of which was a great comfort and 
help to her. Her rector visited her frequently, and prayed with 
her and for her, and administered the help and consolations of 
the church. A few days before her death she called her hus- 
band and her eldest son to her bedside, and said: '"Let me 
read the prayer for the sick." She wished to read it herself, 
to express her prayer to her heavenly Father with more fer- 
vency. She read it with clear and decided, but pathetic and 
pleading, tones, and then committed to Him the issue. 

The last day was the 29th day of June. She lay in the 
library, the windows of which open to the east and receive the 
first light of the coming day. The time was sunrise. The win- 



^- 



IN MKMOKIAM. 



dous were open, and the first warm breath of the morning 
came in fresh and sweet from the fields and flowers. Her 
breath was drawn with the sound of a hillaby, as though hush- 
ing a babe to slee]) : the same note she had used when fjuiet- 
ing lier infant children. Jo)- said, " Paul and Mark cannot 
" get here. They will never see you in life again. Won't you 
"send them a kiss 1)\- me?" She kissed him twice distinctly 
and perfectlv. It was the last conscious act to send a kiss to 
each absent son. She closed her eyes and the heart was still. 
The night was over and the da\- had come. 

The late afternoon of tlvj secoi'id day following Mrs. Mor- 
ton's deatli, Arbor Lodge was the scene of a striking event, 
which was in harmony with her life. \W common consent 
all business in Nebraska City was suspended antl the pall ot 
mourning was ujion all t\v: silent and emi)ty streets. About 
f nir o'clock the p^iople of the town a-iil multitudes from every 
part of the county, and rejjresentatives from all jjortions of the 
Stale, took their way tow.ird the desolate home. There were all 
classes in the compan\- ; but most to be i^b-ierved was the 
throng of the poor and of lln)se not largely blessed witli worldly 



CAROLINE JOV MORTON. 33 



means. The number of them was very great, and the sorrow 
of face and tone and manner si)oke of a personal bereavement. 
Thev to whose wants had for so many years been given kindly 
and untiring ministries ; they whose misfortunes and sorrows 
had been cheered b}' words and acts of thoughtful sympathy ; 
they who had seen this life of tender, vigilant and unselfish 
service for others ; all came to this mansion with their other 
fellow citizens and fellow mourners for the one common purpose. 

It was a June afternoon, ami, save in the hearts of this 
throng of people, all was peaceful and sweet. Her own four 
sons, Joy, Paul, Mark and Carl, carried her forth, assisted by 
four of the near friends of the fomily. With the setting of the 
sun she was laid to rest in the cemetery, \\'yuka, and the grave 
was strewn with flowers by the hands of her own boys. 

The little field thus consecrated by the sacred dust now 
deposited in it has been fitly marked. A shaft, twenty feet 
high and three feet in diameter at the base, has been erected 
in the midst. It is in the form of the trunk of a forest tree, 
which has been riven and broken at the top. At its base lie 
fitly disposed emblems of the life now ended — a sheet with the 



34 



IN MKMORIAM. 



music and words "Rock of Ages," the needles and materials 
of embroidery, the painter's palette, pencils and brushes, grace- 
ful ferns and large lichens, a va;e upD.i its side with broken 
lilies, .and iw twining to the top. One branch hangs, symbol- 
izing the broken life. U[)C)n the opposite side is the cavity of 
a decayed knot, in which arc three tledglings which have left the 
nest ; while on the top of the trunk, looking down upon her 
little ones, is the ai.\iou> mother, and one other, the youngest 
of the brood, under her wing. The little field is protected by 
a fence of stone, the base being a perfect resemblance of rows 
of stumps of trees cut to a uniform height, upon which are 
logs lying hcjrizontally as the\- are laid in a log house. 

The whole is symbolic of a life in the new (H)untr\-, in 
familiar s\mpathv with nature in her tenderest nK)ods. 

'I'he inscri|)ti()n is: C'akoi.ink, wife of J. Sthklinm; Morton. 
Died at Arbor Lodge, June 29, 1881, aged 47 year^. She was 
the m;jther of Joy, Paul, Mark and Carl Morton. 



THE SUNDAY AFTER BURIAL AT ST. MARY'S 

CHURCH. 

On tlic Sunday following the burial of Mrs. Morton there 
was a special mark of the event at St. Mary's Church, Nebra.ska 
City. Mrs. Morton had been a faithful, earnest worker in the 
chnrch. Something of its beauty is due to her, and her death 
was felt by each of the congregation as a personal bereavement. 
Thongh there had been no announcement, there was expecta- 
tion that some allusion would be made to her death. The 
service was the usual morning prayer of the Church, the Rev. 
Mr. O'Connell, the rector, officiating. 

In commencing his sermon, Mr. O'Connell referred to Rev. 



XIV. I 



"And 1 heard a voice from heaven saying unto me, Write, From hence- 
forth blessed are the dead who die in the Lord; even so saith the Spirit; 
for they rest from their labors and their works do folh)w iheni." 

He said : 

With sad hearts and tearful eyes we joined, dear brethren, last Thursday, 
in the long and mournful cortege which followed to the grave the mortal 
3 



36 IX .Mi:.M< )R1.\M. 



remains of our dear departed sister, Mrs. Morton — one who again and again 
joined with us so heartily in the prayers and praises of our beloved Church, 
and i<nelt again and again with us at tiii> sacred Altar to partake of the 
blessed memorial of Christ's dying love. 

We all know of licr intense suffering during her long and painful illness, 
and willi wlial great patience and brave fortitude slie bore it all. 

Never before have I stood beside the sick bed of any one who suffered 
so much, and yet was so patient and uncomi)laining; and never have I come 
away from that bed of languishing w uliuut being myself greatly refreshed 
and strengthened in my own soul. 

When the holy season of I-ent began I sent her lliat most excelknl 
devotional book, l)islio|) Huntington's "New Helps to a Holy I.L-nt." 

She faithfully read the portions assigned for each day, and also diligently 
followed the Lenten service in her Prayer Book, which she kept ever close 
to her pillow, till the unfortunate accident which so prostrated her as to 
make it impossible for her to read herself 

Three times did I arrange, witli her most willing consent, for the admin- 
istration of the Holy Comnuinion; l)Ut when the a})pointed ilays came for the 
rece|;tion of this sacred mystery, which is the source of so much grace and 
blessing to the soul of the worthy recipient, her physicians thought it would 
be belter to p<jsti)one its admiiii tration, owing to her great weakness and the 
absolute necessity to keep her as far as possible from all excitement. 

liut it is consoling for us to know that in such cases all that Cod re(|uires 
is ilie earnest desire of the heart to avail ourselves of the means of grace 
which He has appointed for our sjiiritual sustenance and comfort. 

Nothing tliat could be done to prolong her valuaMe life was left undone. 



CAROLINE JOY MORTON. ^J 

The kindest iiur-es were secured, and the best medical skill, both in the 
State and out of it, was summoned to her aid by her devoted liusband, who 
liiniself, forsaking his varied business interests, watched so untiringly for many 
weeks by her bed of pain. But our heavenly Father's good time for taking 
His daughter home had come; and when He sees that the time is opportune 
for removing His children from this "vale of t'.'ars " to the better and 
brighter land, which He has prepared for them, no earthly efforts of human 
skill can detain tlieni here. 

In the death of Mrs. Morton, the poor, the distressed, and tlie forlorn 
stranger have lost a friend whose place cannot easily be supplied. Her gen- 
erous, womanly heart always beat in sympathy with the wants and woes and 
sorrows of mankind. 

I remember well how, one Sunday night several months ago, she rushed 
up to me after the service with the e.\clam.ition, " Mr. O'Connell, do you 

know that jioor Willie B is in jail? He is a baptized memlier of our 

church, and we must do our best to get him out as soon as possible." This 
was a poor Indian lad, upon whom the law had laid its strong hand for an 
ofiense which, in a son of our more favored race, would remain unnoticed 
and unpunished. But Mrs. Morton had determined that \YiIlie, though an 
unfortunate Indian, should not lack a friend. In a few days, chiefly through 
her energetic efforts, his pardon was procured, and the ponderous gate of 
Nebraska City Jail swung open for his liberation. 

Having obtained his pardon, she next put into my hand.-- the means neces- 
sary to defray his expenses to C , where we knew he would i)e well 

cared for by his father and the members of his tribe. If no kind, intluential 
friend had interposed, a case might be made out against him, which would 



38 



IN MEMORIAM. 



doubtless result in his being sent for one or more years to the penitenliary, 
which would in all probability accomplish his ruin for life. 

I shall never forget the tears of joy which he shed when I told him of 
his pardon, and the blessings which he invoked upon the head of our 
departed sister, to wliom he owed such a deep debt of gratitude. 

The instance which I have mentioned is but one out of many, which you 
doubtless recall, of her never-failing kindness to the poor and needy. 

As an evidence of her devotion to the church, I have only to remind you 
that much of the renovated beauty and comfort of the building in wliich wc 
worship to-day is largely owing to the untiring energy of our dear departed 
sister, and her affectionate, intimate friend, Mrs. I). P. Rolfe. Nay, more, the 
very graveyard, where now rest her remains, l)ears many lasting traces of her 
philanthropic efforts. 

But it is needless for me to multiply instance--. 1 will only add, tliat in 
the death of Mrs. Morton the poor have lost a true and unfailing friend; the 
church has lost one of its mo.t influential members ; society has lost one of 
its brightest ornaments ; the Town and State have lo.-t one of its most enter- 
prising, public-spirited citizens, and I feel that I have lost a true, sympathizing 

frien<l. 

She will be missed in the church, missed m the town, missed in the 
county, missed in the State, missed — .sadly missed — at home, misled every- 
where. 

Happy are the dead who die in the l.ovd- yea, saitli the Spirit, for they 
rest from their labors and their works do follow them. 



HONORING THE DEAD. 



We, the undersigned business men of Nebraska City, in token of our 
respect and sympathy for J. Sterling Morton and the surviving members of 
his family, as well as our tender regard for the sacretl memory of his 
deceased wife, and in rememLr.mce of the fact that she was one of the 
pioneers of Nebraska City and ever foremost in its kindest and most hearty 
charity, and that her life-long interests have been so largely identified with 
ours, we hereby agree to close our several places of business during the time 
of her funeral on the 30th day of June, 1881. 



John Steinhart, 
Sloan & Baco.n, 
ToMLiN, Duff & Co., 
MosE Kaufman, 
Rector & Wilhelmv, 
L. Wessel & Co., 
Wm. Hammond, 
E. S. Hawley & Co., 
Jas. Reed & Bro., 

W. C. LaMI!ETH & ]>RO., 

J. W. Waldsmith, 

lilSCHOF & ZiMMERER, 

karsten.s & b.a.ch1,er, 
Mrs. Gilhert, 
Lloyd & Weimer, 
d.wvson c0llin.s, 

V. \V. RoTTMAN, 

R. II. Drkkv, 

NOELTINC. & KrECEL, 



S. H. Calhoun, 
S. J. Faris, 

R. M. RoLEE & Co., 

Sample Store, 
Alex. Calmali:t, 

A. F. MoLRING, 

S. H. Morrison, 
LoRTON & Potts, 
Rout. Hawke, 

ji>HN II. DaHL, 
A. JollNSO.N, 

J. H. Hensel, 
Philip Potter & Co., 
H. AlRD & Co., 
C. C. Bickel, 
li. H. Bartling, 
J. W. Anderson, 
Lewis Ring, 

C. II. KOKIE. 



NOTICES OF THK PRESS. 



IN MEM< »RIAM. 



Intelligence of the death of Mi's. J. Slorlint^ Morton will sadden the hearts 
of many among our Omaha readers tliis morning. For such we cannot hope 
to add aught befitting to the words of manly sympathy spoken by a long 
time personal friend of Mr. Morton's family in our columns this morning. 
As respects the alllicted husband and sons, it is a satisfaction to know that in 
principle, sentiment and action, their lives have been such that we may 
bL'sjieak for them the only consolation possible in the supreme earthly atllic- 
tion — the consoling conviction of an immorlality whicli shall be made 
"blessed" by reunion, in more perfect life with the loved and lost. To the 
late Mrs. Morton that beautiful and gracious poem of Wordsworth, " .\ 
rhmtoni of Delight,'" has true and rare application: 

"A perfect woman; nobly planned 
To warn and counsel and command : " 

and these qualities, which so adorned and ennobled the home life whose 
little world she created for father and chil.lren, displayed in manly and 
upright characters whose foundations she wrought, will by their sweet, all- 
per>ua<ling presence, not more recall the womanly spirit gone to its rest than 
reconcile those « lin remain l)ehind for a season, to a jxirting which is toler- 
able only because it is but for a time, and is the prelude lo a final an<l 
joyous restoration. 



CAROLINE JOY MORTON. 4^ 



The funeral services will l*e kch\ at Nebraska City, at six o'clock this 
afternoon. We learn that several of our citizens with tlieir families will attend, 
and we need not assure Mr. Morton that the sorrowful duty which calls them 
to his side is one which would be gratifying to hundreds of our people to 
join with tiiem in manifesting.— Cw^^/zf? A'r/>///>lha>i. 

DEATH OF MRS. J. STERLING MORTON. 
The telegraph informs us of the death of Mrs. J. Sterling Morton. She 
died at her home, Arlior Lodge, near Nebraska City, at an early hour yesterday. 
This is sad news to a large circle of fri&nds who, well knowing that she 
had long been dangerously ill, ha.l still hoped for a favorable result. These 
hopes were perhaps based on her great natural vigor and courage, her skill- 
ful medical attendance, and the tender care of her loving friends, rather than 
upon llie symptoms of the disease with which she had long struggled for life. 
Mrs. Morton came to Nebraska about the year 1854. She was then a 
young an<l beautiful bride, and Nebraska was a wilderness, great only in 
territorial extent and future possibility. 

She came here to make her /lam- in Nebraska. How grandly she suc- 
ceeded let those attest who have enjoyed her gentle hospitality; who have 
seen her, tlie ,/iurn, preside with such gracious dignity over her Ao»u' A-iug- 
dom. Gifted Willi wonderful physical and mental vigor, few women have 
done so much and so successfully in woman's va.ie.l spheres. Active in her 
own church and its work, she was yet ever alive to the charitable demands 
of that great common humanity, irrespective of all sects and all creeds. 
Devoted to her home life and home duties, she yet found time to be a 
leader in society an<l the life of a large social circle. 



42 1\ MEMORIAM. 



As wife, as mother, as woman, her work was nobly done ; and although 
to us blind mortals it seems hard that she should be cut off in the very 
iiu'ridia)i of her life, yet the good Lord knew that her work was fully done — 
that the tired one should rest. 

Of a beautiful home now darkened forever — of four noble boys, now, with 
one exception, grown to worthy manhood — above all, of him who now, more 
than ever before, knows the meaning of desolation, what shall we say ? 
What can we say? Only this — that if to suffering, sorrowing mortals the 
sympathy of their fellows is valuable and precious, then they are rich indeed. 

P. \V. IIiTciiaiCK. 

Note. — The above were the la.st lines ever written, for pubhcation, by ex-United States 
Senator Hitchcock. He died and wa.s buried within a week after this generous tribute of a 
great heart to the memorj' of the wife of his earnest friend. 



A GOOD WOMAN CONE. 

A telegram from Nebraska City, received yesterday, brings the sad intelli- 
gence that .Mrs. .Morton, wife of Hon. J. Sterling Morton, departed this life 
at her home near Nebraska City at an early hour yesterday morning. Mrs. 
Morton has been a re-ident of Nebraska for the past twenty-seven years, and 
was loved and resjiected by all who knew her. She leaves a husbanil and 
four sons to mourn her loss. The yournal extenils its sympathies to the 
bereaved family in their great affliction. — S,ltite Journal. 



CAROLIXl-: lOY MORTON. 43 



A NOBLE WOMAN GONE. 
The followiiif; very sad tclc<,n-am, rcCLived this ciflcnioon, explains itself: 

Nkhkask.v City, June 29, 1881. 
To Gener.\l Victor Vifquain, 

Editor Democrat, Lincoln, Nebraska. 
Mrs. Morton died this A.M. Funeral at 6 r.M. TInirsday. 

" Lot " Brown. 

And so, after nearly five months of the most intense suffering, she who 
was the idol of her family, the pride of the community wherein she lived 
and of her many friends, has been obliged to answer the last long roll-call ! 
Why, then, such suffering? The fortitude of this noble woman has been that 
of a hero. No words of ours are adecjuate to the occasion, and we very 
closely feel the pangs of sorrow that have stricken the family of J. Sterling 
Morton. — Lincoln Democrat. 

DEATH OF MRS. J. STERLINC MORTON. 

Mrs. T- Sterling Morton died at her home. Arbor Lodge, at 8:30 A.M. on 
Wednesday, June agih, 1881, aged 47 years. 

Mrs. Morton was one of those perfect women whom, when we see, we 
are not conscious of their attributes, only conscious of their presence. No 
pen can write truly her eulogy. Her tender, loving nature, her benevolence, 
her home, her noble sons, are her eulogy. Who could ask a nobler? 

And who can grieve too much r What time shall end 
Our mourning for so dear a friend '.' 

The funeral will take place to-day, at 5 P.M., from Arbor Lodge.— A'^- 
braska Press, Jtine jo. 



44 



IN MKMoRIAM. 



MRS. J. STERLING MORTON. 

THK TRir.UTK I'AIU To IIKK .MKMORY BY A COMPARATIVE STRANHIKR. 

Editor Democrat : 

In your last evening's paper I saw with sorrow the notice of the death of 
Mrs. J. Sterling Morton, of Nebraska City. 

It was the privilege of the writer, in company with Rev. G. W. Klwood, 
to enjoy the hospitality of Arbor Lodge for a week tlurin^^ the session of the 
Nebraska Methodist Conference last October. 

Mrs. Morton made her home most agreeal>lc to all by the exhibition of so 
many of the Christian graces. Myself and friend were nut at the door by 
Mr>. Morton and assured of a cordial welcome. 

In her home of luxury Mrs. Morton was the truly cultivated Christian 

lady. All felt the charm thrown around that beautiful home. Christian 

hospitality so spontaneous is seldom seen connected with luxury. My friend 

and myself were made to feel that Arbor Lodge belonged to us, or that we 

were a part of the family. 

It is true, "she shall return no more to her home; neither her home 

know her any more." Sad is the thought that the keystone has fallen out of 

that home arch. '1 he pall of death is thrown over that (juiet home. 

The society she graccil, the church of which she was an honored member, 

will long feel the loss. But the fragrance of her Cliri-lian character will lung 

be felt by all who knew her. Many that have shared the hospitality of Mr. 

and Mrs. Morton would be glad to sit, a.- did Jol)'s friends, in silence for 

days, and weep with this family so bereaved. May the mantle of love worn 

i)V the deceased fall upon llie hu-.band and children. 

r. W. llowi-.. 



CAROLINE JOV MORTOX. 45 

PASSED OVER. 

DEATH OF MRS. J. STKRI.INc; MURToN, Tills Mt)RNIN(;. 

Just as the clock was striking eight, this morning, the sjiirit of Mrs. 
Caroline J. Morton, wife of J. Sterling Morton, ascended to the God who 
gave it, and all her earthly trials and suflcrijigs were over. Since January 
last she has been confined to her bed with arthrilis, one of the most painful 
diseases known, and has suffered almost everything. During the last two 
months but little hopes were entertained for her recovery; still she did not 
complain, but bore her suffering with fortitude and resignation. Aliout a week 
ago she began to show signs of failing, and this morning 

" She passed to peaceful slumber like a child, 
The while attendant angels built the dream, 
On which she rode to Heaven." 

Mrs. Morton was born in Maine, in 1833; at an early age moved to 
Detroit, Michigan, where she grew into womanhood. Siic was married at 
Detroit, October 30, 1854, and with her husband came to this, then unset- 
tled, country, arriving here in Novemlier, 1S54. Tiiey remained at Omaha 
and Bellevue until April, 1855, when they came to this city. Upon their 
arrival here Mr. Morton preempted one hundred and sixty acres one mile 
west of town — now known as Arbor Lodge — where her death occurred. 
Coming into this country when she did, .she was compelled to undergo all the 
dangers, hardships and inconveniences to which pioneer life is subject. She 
witnessed the growth of the city from nothing to what it now is, and died 
surrounded by all the luxuries that money could purchase. 

Mrs. Morton was a kind and indulgent mother, an earnest Christian, and 



46 IN MKMoRIAM. 



an active worker in the cause of tlie cluirch. She has lieen prominently 
identified with all charitable enterjjrises of the city, always ready to help the 
sick and Heedy or visit and care for those wlio reijuired assistance. She will 
also he sadly missed in the social circle which she so graced. 

She leaves a husband, four sons, and a large circle of friends, to mourn 
her loss. — jYtl/ras/cu City A'e-u}. 

The funeral of Mrs. J. Sterling Morton took place Thursday afternoon, at 
five o'clock, from the family residence, and the remains were followed to 
their last resting-place by a large number of friends in this city and from 
abroad. The pall bearers were the four sons of the deceased — Paul. Mark, 
Joy and Carl Morton. They were assisted by Messrs. D. P. Rolfe, I.yman 
Richardson, L. F. Moore and A. A. Ilrowii. — Iln'tL 



ni:.\Tii OF THK Wild-: of j. stf:ri.ix(; mortox. . 

Mrs. Morton, wife of Hon. J. Sterling Nk)rton, of Nebraska City, Neb., 
died yestenlay. Her danger was very brief — so brief, indeed, ihat her son, 
Mr. Paul Morton, assistant general freight agent of the Chicago, Burlington 
and Quincy Railroad, though summoned jiromptly, was unable to see her 
alive. Mrs. Morton possessed that sum of (jualities which distinguisheil her in 
no small degree. Her character was broad, yet gentle and gracious in the 
extreme, and in the iierformance of kindly deeds her life was an exem]ilifica- 
tion of i)raclical Christianity. The regret for Mrs. Morion's death, which 
cannot luit be witlely felt in the home circles of Nebraska, will be shared by 
many well kn.nvn people in Chicago. — C/iiidi^o 'J'iiiit's, yunc jo. 



CAROIJNK JOY MOKION. 47 

" REST IN PEACE/' 

How impressive a sight, to see a mother lowered down in the grave by 
her four sons, — and how appropriate ! The first ones to receive her care at 
their liirth, ihe last ones to give lier their care at licr death I Joy, Paul, 
Mark and Carl — pcKir little Carl — the sons of J. Sterling Morton, thus hon- 
ored tliem-elves, and have put an epitaph upon their darling mother's tomb 
more lasting ami more impressive than any that could be written. She is 
gone, but she has left behind her four sons, young men still, and Carl, a 
mere i)oy ; but men nevertheless, noble and brave, who have set an example 
which will no doubt be, as it ought to be, largely imitated. No stranger's 
hands should touch the dead : no stranger's hands are needed. Wiiose iiands 
will touch the casket with gentler care, and whose tears are more fitting, as 
tlie very last dew of life on " mollier's grave"? 'J"he task is a hard one: it 
takes courage, but the boys have done it n<)l)ly, and the iieart of every friend 
around thehi suffered in its own sorrtjw and through their fnst martyrdom. 

Vet those sons had but their own sorrows; moreover, they are young, the 
oldest being hardly twenty-six. Put what of the father? What of J. Sterling 
Morton, the husband? Pc^ides.his own sorrow, he had the sorrow of his 
four sons to withstand. The (lowing tears of a son are always hard lo a 
father; but in a sad, terrible in-tance like this, the tears of four beloved boys 
are nearly all that human nature can endure, and J. Sterling Morton's heart 
came well nigh In-eaking I Put his heart was gone for the time being; and 
tlie funeral of hi- wife, the mother of his children, is the funeral of his heart, 
because for more or less of a period it remains enclo.scd within the confines 
of that <irave. 



48 IN" MKMoUIAM. 

Death is terrible, whetliL-r it comes to still the bounding pulse of youth or 
take the smiling infant in its cold embrace. It is terrible when it seals with 
its icy touch the light of a loving niotlier's eyes and ([uenches forever the 
pure^t and holiest fire that ever burned in the human heait — that of a mother's 
love. But there is a touch of holy sorrow as we gaze upon the scene and 
witness the fruits of the lal or of the life that is gone, developed in a noble 
manhood, strong, virtuous and generous, paying the last tribute of filial duty 
at the grave of a noble mother I .Strew ing that grave with earth's choicot 
Howers, emblematical of an unfaltering pur)jose to consecrate their lives to 
deeds worthy of the mother and her life. 

Mrs. Caroline J. Morton was born in Maine in 1833, moved to Nebraska 
in 1S54, and died at Arbor Lodge, Weilnesday, June 29th, iSSi, at the age 
of forty-seven years. — Liutoln Dcinoiial. 

DKATIl OF MRS. MORTON. 

The Ilcntld aunjunces with kejnesi sorrow the dealii of .Mr>. J. Sterling 
.Morton, of Nebraska City. She expired at her residence, \\'edne>day, the 
29th ult., in the forty-seventh year of her age, after a long and painful ill- 
ness, alllicled with an incuraiile malady. Surrounded by her sorrowing Timily, 
she passed peacefully away. Her feet had long trod near the shores of the 
unseen river, and death had no terror for llie gentle lady whose memory is 
enshrined in so many affecti n\-. The intelligence of her ]irobably fatal illness 
has gone abroad in the State where she has lived for so many year--, and the 
universal sympathy expressed in this possible bereavement evinces the warm 
and iriidfi regard which her life of womanly duties and gentle ways inspired 



carui.im; j()\' MORION. 49 



in the hearts of all who knew her. Coming to Nebraska when it was yet a 
wilderness, she helped to fashion its rude surroundings into the graceful 
civili/ation which has made it the home of a society as cultured and relined 
as can be found in the West. In those early days the influence of a lady 
like Mrs. Morton was priceless. It was as the pilgrimage of those ] ious 
women who go abroad in the world to redeem the fallen and uphold the 
weak. In her gentle presence the rude frontier shared in the refinements of 
distant homes. Grace and purity beautified a life devoted to the good wdiich 
a warm heart and gei)erous nature could find to do. The poor were cared 
for, the struggling found encouragement, and the humble-t knew in her a 
friend and helper. To them the announcement of her death will come like 
a pergonal bereavement. The ties which are severed are not like those wliicii 
belong to older communities. Isolation endeared, mutual sorrow intensified, 
and magnanimity and virtue made holy a life filled with generous deeds and 
loyal friendshii^s. As Cornelia, the Roman matron, pointed to her sons as 
jewels brigliter than a crown, so can Nebraska point to her pioneer women 
as legacies of honor more brilliant than a diadem. Mrs. Morton was born in 
Maine in 1833, and at an early a^e moved to Detroit, Michigan, where she 
grew into womaidiood. She was married at Detroit, October 30th, 1854, and 
with her hu^iaiid came directly to Nebraska, arriving here in November, 
1854. She has lived here ever since, honored and beloved by a large circle 
of accjuaintances. Four sons were born to her, — Joy, Paul, Mark and Carl, — 
who with their father survive the sad bereavement. Across the threshold of 
their des date home e\en th-' tenderness of friendship may not venture %\ itli 
consolation. Only those who have experienced the anguish of such broken 
ties can share in a sorrow like theirs. 



IX MEMORIAM. 



The funeral of Mrs. Morton was appointed for six o'clock yesterday 
evening. Tiie following dispatch describes the funeral rite : 

Xemkaska City, June 30. 
The funeral of Mrs. J. Slerling Morton took place at five o'clock this 
afternoon. Siic was tenderly borne to her last resting-place by her four sons — 
Joy, Paul, Mark and Carl. Friends were in attendance from Omaha, Lin- 
coin, Brownvilie, and otlier places. The funeral cortege was the largest and 
most imposing ever witnessed on an occasion of this kind in the hi-tory of 
the city. The business houses were all closed at four o'clock. The sad 
event has cast a gloom over the entire comnuiiiity where Mrs. Morton was 
universally esteemed and beloved. — Ihrahl. 

MRS. MORTON'S FUXER.M.. 

The last sad rit'j lias been performed, and tiie tribute to tiie dead from 
those who knew her best and loved her most was a grantl outpouring of our 
people to witness her burial. The funeral cortege was the largest ever wit- 
nessed in Nebraska City. 'i"he service was brief, but impressive, and con- 
sisted of simply reading the beautiful Ijuriil service of the Episcopal Church, 
and prayer. The pall bearers were tlie noble sons of the lamented deceased — 
[oy, I'aul, -Mark and Carl, — assisted by l.ynian Riciiardson of Omaha, L. O. 
.Moore of Chicago, D. P. Rolfe and " Lot " Brown of this city. The grave 
was strewn with flowers by Joy and Paul. Thus closed the life of Mi^s. J. 
Sterbng Morton. — Nebraska Press, ytt/y i. 



CAROLINK JOV .MORTOX. 51 

HIS LAST. 

Tlie Omalia Kfpiihlican says: "A friLMicl called yestcrtlay with a coj^y of 
the Ktpubliiaii of June 30, containing the late Mr. Hitchcock's touching 
notice of the death of Mrs. J. Sterling Morton, in which occurred the fol- 
lowing, which seemed almost prophetic of the writer's impending departure : 
'As wife, as mother, as woman, her work was nobly done; and although to 
u> blind mortals it seems hard that she should be cut off in the very meridian 
of her life, yet the good Loril knew that her work was fully done — that the 
tired one should rest.' And so, said our friend, may we truthfully say of Mr. 
Hitchcock; as husl)and, as father, as man, his work was nobly done; it was 
fitting that the tired one should ■ rest. The communication referred to was 
the last of Mr. Hitchcock's public utterance. He expected to start for 
Nebraska CiTy the next morning to attend Mrs. Morton's obsequies, but ill- 
ness came on — the illness of which he died. In fact, he was ill when he 
wrote the words, and the manuscript was brought to us by his son. His 
chirography was always rather obscure, and in this instance it was particularly 
so, and we asked the aid of the son in reading it, in obedience to our 
friend's injunction to "be jiarticular to see that there were no errors" when 
jjublished. Amid a press of duties we forgot to look at the proof, — an over- 
sight which occurred to us on our way home about midnight. We returneil 
to the office and found that in the sentence " ."^he came here to make a home 
in Nebra.ska," the word '• name " had been set instead of " home." This 
was corrected, and the article appeared precisely as written by Mr. Hitch- 
cock. — Omaha Republican. 



52 IN' MKMORIAM. 



NEBRASKA PIONEERS. 

Mr. Reynolds, formerly of Nebraska City, in his Parsons, Kansas, IttJe- 
pendeni, pays the following tribute to Nebraska pioneers: 

" The young State of Nebraska has recently lost two of her noblest 
pioneers. We refer to the deaths of ex-Senator Hitchcock and Mrs. J. Ster- 
ling Morton. The decease of each is sincerely mourned by the young slate 
at large and by hosts of friends in other states. Tlic writer hereof was 
intimately acquainted with both parties. Senator Hitchcock went to Nebraska 
in 1857 — and took uj) his residence in Omaha the same year we settled at 
Nebraska City. The senator served as delegate in Congress from the Terri- 
tory, as United States marshal and United States senator for the term of six 
years. He was a man of generous impulses, loyal to his friends, to his party, 
to his country; and possessing very respectable talents and excellent social 
surroundings, rose to eminence and distinction in the state of his adoption 
and in the country. 

" Mrs. |. Sterling Morton was one of the earliest settlers and noblest 
women that have resided in the young state. She went to the Territory in 
1854, twenty-seven years ago, and resided there continuously as the loyal and 
devoted wife of the most brilliant young man who ever crossed the .Missis- 
sippi river. J- Sterling Morton would long since have been United States 
senator from Nebraska if he had belonged to the dominant party. Mrs. 
Morion for twenty-seven yeai-s was beloved and honored by all. Incciiit 
regina. .She moved, a queen in the social circle, in the household, in the 
church she loved and whose ordinances >he devoully and faithfidly observed. 



CAROLINK JOV MORION. 



She raiseil four nuble sons, tlie three eldest now occupying high positions m 
railway and l)Usiness circles. 

•' These poorly constructed words of condolence and sympathy with the 
sorrowing husband and friend and associate of our earlier college days, and 
tribute to the honored dead, whose names Nebraska will ever hold in fond 
remembrance among the noblest of her pioneer men and women, we could 
not fail to express and impress ujion the jirinted page from our southern 
Kansas home." 

A TOUCHING INCIDENT. 

The death of Mrs. J. Sterling Morton left a mourning husband and four 
sons to deplore her loss. Three of these sons are engaged in active business 
in Chicago. Only one of them, Carl, one of the best and bravest boys of 
fourteen years whom we have ever known, could be with the father to help 
him bear a burtlen >o heavy that it seemed it must break the strong man 
down. The last scene of all had come and gone like a terrible dream when 
the keen sympathy of the sons with the father led to a discussion of plans 
for surrounding him with >ym]iathy and suiiport in his bereft home. Mr. 
Morton heard and heeded all that lilial affection could suggest, when, turning 
to his two married sons, Joy and Paul, with heart and mind full of well 
controlled emotion, he said : 

" My sons, if your dear mother was living, and you should lose your 
wives as I have lost mine, you would look back to her for consolation and 
sujiport. So I, in this trying hour, linn to my mother for that consolation 
and comfort which mothers alone can give to their children in their hours of 
deepest sorrow." 



54 IN MEMOKIAM. 



The statement that Mrs. Morton, the venerable mother of this strong man, 
is with her son in his stricken home in Nebraska City, is all that need be 
added to this imperfect relation of an incident wliich is as worthy of the man- 
hood as it is honoraljJe to the motherhood of our country. — Omaha Herald. 

DEAD. 

The wife of 'Hon. J. Sterling Morton, of Nebraska City, was buried last 
Thursday at that city, the jxall-bearers being her four sons, — Joy, Paul, Mark 
and Carl, — four as noljle young men as live, and they could not be otherwise, 
having, as they did, such a mother. We have known the deceased for twelve 
years. A truer, nobler and kinder-hearted lady never lived : one of the most 
refined in feelings; one who was loved and respected by all, and a leader in 
society. Any one who came in contact with her could not help but be bene- 
fited, and feel as though they had met one of superior talent and goodness. 
She brought up her family of boys as a noble Christian woman would do, 
and was rewarded for it, as two are now occupying prominent positions on 
the Chicago, Burlington & Quincy Railroad— Paul occupying the position of 
assistant general freight agent of that corporation. Having been very iiiiimate 
with the family and young men so many yeai-s, we can aj)preciate then- ileep 
sorrow at this great cloud of sadness that has come over their home. As 
for our friend Mr. Morton, we know thai the blow is a fearful one, for his 
whole life appeared to be devoted to making his wife happy and his home, 
"Arbor Lodge," a plea-ant place, and few batcr nun can be found than 
Sterling Morion. The heartfelt sympathies of ihe editor of this paper is 
extended to the family in this iheir hour of great atlliclion. — Kansas City 
Evening Spy. 



CAROLINE JOV MoRToX. 55 



The wife of Hon. I. Stirling Morton died at her home in Nebraska City 
on the 29lh of fune. She was a lady of very excellent qualities — a pioneer 
who has grown up with the country and has done a great part in trans- 
forming the great and beautiful Str.te of Nebraska from a wilderness, inhab- 
ited by the coyote, Iniffalo and Indi^i, to a real garden, cultivated by as 
intelligent a people as can be found in the civiHzed world. She, a blooming 
bride, came with her young husband to Nei)raska in 1S56, and since that 

time has been 

"A perfect woman; nobly planned 
To warn and counsel and command." 
— Ilamhitrg Times. 

Mrs. Caroline F. Morton, wife of J. Sterling Morton, of Nebraska City, 
died on Wednesday, June 29th, 1S81, after a lingering an<l painful illness, in 
the forty-seventh year of her age. 

Such announcements as the above are an c\ery day occurrence. Some 
one, beloved, more or less, in his or her immediate circle, is passing away 
eveiy hour, leaving behind an impression, blinding and stupefying for the 
instant, like the vivid lightning's Hash, but, like it, swallowed up in an instant 
more in the dark forgetfulness and silence of the grave. 

To the few only is a longer public memory vouchsafed. Rut of the 
maj(M- part even of these how soon it may be written : 

" Their memories and their names are gone. 
Alike unknowing and unknown." 

r.ut if the memories and names of men pass so soon into oblivion, not so 
is it with the results of their lives. Their virtues or their vices leave behind 
them their enduring monument. 



56 IX MEMORIAM. 



In a sense that is essentially true, all men and women are autobio- 
t^rapher-;, writing clay l)y clay a page of their own life in the book of time, 
and engraving their own epitaph, not indeed on marble columns or stately 
edifices, but on fleshly tables, more enduring than marble. The lines may be 
so f^iintly traced as to escape the observation of their fellows, but the writing 
is there, and no act of man can l)lot il out, and its end, for it is a living 
thing, who will witness? The germ of vice or the seed of virtue thrown to 
the winds by word, deed or example, may be a small, insignificant thing, 
scarcely claiming our observation, but wlicn it has taken root and grown it 
may, like the mustard seed, become a great herb, in which foul fiends may 
harbor, or in the branches of which angels of goodness and mercy may find 
entertainment. 

The influence of noble Christian example, persistent and true to itself, is 
to humanity like the rays of the sun to the physical world; it penetrates 
hidden recesses in man's mysterious spiritual nature, where nothing else can 
enter, and silently but surely does its work, refining and elevating the senti- 
ments and hal)its of private and social life, and in time changing the whole 
aspect of society. 

Just such an influence was exerted by the nol)le lady who has but now 
passed away from the midst of hosts of sorrowing friends, leaving not one 
enemy behind her. 

Her name is associated with our earliest recollections of Nebraska, and 
her commanding influence for good in the rude state of things which then 
existed in Nebraska City none will deny wiio can speak witl) authority. 

She was a lady of refined feelings and cultivated txste, and proved during 
her exemplary life tliat the possession of these ciualilies was no bar to the 



CAROLINE J()\" Morton. 57 



faithful discharge of duty in whatever condition of life a woman may be 
placed. 

The poor and the needy ftjund in lier an o]ien-]ianded, warm-hearted 
friend; the stranger a hospitaMe entertainer; the adventurous pioneer a spirited 
encourager and wise counselor; the city of her choice a public-spirited citi- 
zeness, and the church of lier lo\'e and devotion a daughter to whom it could 
be truly said : " Blessed art thou among women."' 

Mrs. Morton had the true pride of a living faith, which refuses to sacrifice 
to God with that which cost her nothing, and tliis practical faith sustained 
her in patiently enduring a long and painful illness which terminated only 
with lier death. She said to her rector, shortly before her decease: "It is 
good for me that I have been atllicted ; it lias brought me near to Clod, 
and made my parting with my family and friends less painful. I leave them 
in the sure hope of a joyful reunion."' 

On the day of her funeral, i)Usiness of all kinds was suspended, and a 
whole city in mourning followed her remains to their last resting-place. 
Nebraska City never before witnessed such a scene. We have no words to 
describe it. (Jreat mu>t have been the virtue in private life to have proiluced 
such an outbreak of feeling. Such a life was worth living, if no other fruit 
followed; but who can estimate the results of a life capable of moving a 
whole city to such an exhibition of love and regard? 

Her monument will be the virtues she practiced, exhibited in the lives of 
generations yet unborn to whom they will be transmitted — their richest in- 
heritance — by those who enjoyed and profited by her godly example. — From 
Ihc C/iim/i Ciuardia)i, 0?iialia. 



CORRKSrONDENCE 



I'Vom the Bishop of Nebraska : 

OvKRi.ooK, Omaha, June 30, 1S81. 
Hon. J. Steri.inc Morton: 

My Dear Sir, — I beg leave to express to you my sincerest sympathy for 
the great sorrow that has befallen your home in the death of your most 
estimable wife. 

I know that human words are of little avail in healing wounds of broken 
hearts, but still there is always some solace for our griefs in the conscious- 
ness that our friends feel for and with us, in our losses and sorrows. This 
you may be sure of, as not many women of my acquaintance could have 
been taken from carlh, leaving so many behind to regret and to grieve, as is 
the case on the departure of Mrs. Morton. 

I sincerely trust that you and your children may be divinely guided to 
the comfortai)lc conviction " that all are not lost who have gone before," 
and that you may be con--oled in your sorrow by those Divine consolations 
that are most precious and most sustaining. 

I am very truly your sincere friend, 

Rolll-.ur II. Cl.ARKSON. 



CAROLINE lOV MOKToX. 59 



From the Governor of Nebraska : 

State ok Nkp.raska, Executive DEPARiMENr, 

Lincoln, July 2, 18S1. 
Hon. J. Steki,in(; Morton: 

My Dear Sir, — You have been in my mind constantly since I tlist learned 
of the death of Mrs. Morton. Of your great sorrow and bereavement no one 
can realize but yourself That you may be able to bear your great loss with 
philosophical f()rtilu<le and resignation is my heartfelt wish. Acccjit from Mrs. 
Nance and myself our sincere sympathy in your affliction; and trusting that 
you may live long still to be happy in and for your dear children, 
I remain sincerely yours, 

Albinus Nance. 



From Mr. J. M. Woohvorth : 

O-MAIIA, July 2, 1S81. 
Mv Dear Morton: 

I returned home from a week's absence to-day. I was with Mr. Dexter 
and Mr. Perkins when we heard of the terrible calamity which has fallen 
ujKm you. Of all your friends, I am as well able as any to understand what 
has befallen you, and to sympathi/.e with your inexpressible sorrow. I need 
not tell you how very, very sorry I am for you and for the boys. I cry 
from my heart that (iod may keep you. I will go and see you for a day 
next week, if it will be any comfort to you, and you will let me know. 
Perhaps Chandler will go loo. 



6o IN MEMORIAM. 



With the warmest affection anil llie deepest sympathy, in wliich Mrs. 
Woolworth and [eanie join, 

Your old friend, J. M. Wool.WORTH. 

After the visit referred to above the following was written : 

Omaha, July 12, iSSi. 
Mv Dear Morton : 

I reached home on time. Poor Hitchcock was buried ye-terday afternoon. 
I have seen no one, and know only what the Herald will tell you. My visit 
was full of melancholy pleasure. I was especially happy to find you disposed 
to dwell on the pleasant [last rather than on the dark present. She who 
answered every need of your heart and home was so genuine and true that 
she would have it altogether so. It is a dark, dark cloud; but it is riven 
all through with the light of sweet memories and l)lessed hopes. 

You and I have no time to study the problems of the future world — we 
mu>t be content to accept in faith the received l)eliefs. 1 do not doubt, and 
you must n(jl doubt, that the natural longing (jf the heart for immortality, and 
for knowledge of and communion with the loved ones who have gone 
before, will be altogether satisfied — how. we need not ask; the great, blessed, 
ultimate fact is enough for us. 

The Church, in whose sweet way she loved to walk, deals lovingly and 
kindly with us, especially when we are in sorrow. I hope you will know- 
abundantly what her consolations are. 

With kind rememl)rances to your mother, sister and Carl, 
I am your friend. 

I. \I. Wooi.wuRTH. 



CAKOLIXI-: JOY MORTON. 



6i 



From Ex-Governor Furnas : 

l)Rn\VNVILI.E, Xki!., Julv "j , iSSl. 

My Bereaved Friend: 

I wish I could say a word or do an act that iiiiL^ht. in the least, tend to 
soften the stroke that has fallen on you ; hut it i> not in the power of words or 
acts of men, only "lie who tempers the wind^." 

Other than from death in my own family, I have never been so sad. I 
did not even dare api.roach you, and other stricken members of your family. 
when at your desolate home. To do so seemed an invasion in a circle too 
sacred for others than tlie immediate household. Hence the .^lent tear and 
inward prayer. 

We can but regard such providential visitations as almost beyond endur- 
ance; and yet they are strewed all along life's pathway— the sure lot of 
all, in course of time. We cannot escape them. They arc pait of the life 
here. We hope there i^ another life beyond where sorrows do n(jt come. 
There is such foundation for such hojie. Let it console us. 

I never before beheld so impressive and appropriate an act as children 
depositing the dead mother in the silent grave — the last act on earth: 
Whose hand could so well perform this sacred <luty? Xoble sons', noble 
mother I 

Be assured of my continued condolence. 

■priilv, Rout. W. FfRNAS. 



62 IX Mr.MDRIAM. 



Brownvii.i.k, Neh., August 2, 1881. 
Mv Dear Morion : 

In reply to closing paragraph, your letter August 1st received. 

Permit me, a sympathizing friend, to say, Courage, my friend! courage. 
Meet the emergency, however great and trying. The stroke is heavy, and 
none but the experienced can truly comprehend and fully sympathize. 

After our grief, it becomes us to view these manifestations and Providence 
from both a philosophical and submissive standpoint. Death is the common 
end of all — inevitable ; from it none can escape. The grim monster is no 
respecter of persons or position ; he enters, unbidden and unwelcome, the 
dearest family circle, and ruthlessly tears asunder tenderest ties. 

Vou have been remarkably favored as to family affliction. The first victim 
is in reality the head. May we not reason that, in this instance, " lie who 
doeth all tilings well " still furllicr favored, in sparing the wife and mother 
the ordeal of parting with her loved ones — our eyes behokling them laid 
away in the silent tomb, and she, doomed alone to buffet the waves of a coKl 
world ? This remains the lot of you stronger ones, by nature better fitteil to 
bear the burden. She had done a noble work — her .share of life's labor — 
and God called her to Him, without the weight of earthly afflictions, the lot 
of many others. Surely there is favor in this. 

No I no I that light has not gone out ! merely withdrawn from our earthly 
sphere. It lighted your pathway for over a quarter of a century : now the 
special guiding star, dividing the footstejis of four sons along the uncertnin 
paths of youth, up to honored minhood. It is now transferred — translated 
elsewhere. Its effulgence illumines another royal road, leading to another and 
brighter sphere, beckoning loved onjs to follow. No! no I that light h.as not 



CAROLINE TOY MORTON. 6 



gone out ; its influence is inward and endless. Other lights, too, you have 
about you — home, mother, si'<ter, sons. 

The mother had done her full duty in bringing her children to ages of 
maturity. Now they are encountering the stern realities of life's battles, they 
need more a father's voice and counsel. Your duties are, as it were, just 
beginning. 

Courage, then, my friend I courage! 

Truly, Roirr. W. Fukn.\s. 

From ex-U. S. Senator Thayer : 

(Ikamj Island, Septemljer 17, iSSi. 
Hon. J. SiKkLiNi; Morion: 

3ly Dear .SV;-,— Absence from Nebraska prevented my learning the sad 
intelligence of the death of Mrs. Morton till my return. .\lthough late, I 
desire to express to you my heartfelt sorrow for, and synipatliy with, you in 
tills your time of sorest trial. I have thought much of you in your solitude, 
for it has always seem-il to nie that the passing away of one's life companion 
must leave tlie husband lonely and desolate indeed, though he may be sur- 
rounded with many kind relations and friends. Writing to you of your great 
loss recalls the time wlien I fnst met Mrs. Morton. It will be twenty-seven 
years next month that my wife and myself called at your liou^e in I'.elleview ; 
and slie was standing in the door as we drove up, and you met us at the 
gate. Twenty-seven years, and now she has gone! and beyond, the pioneers 
of this Slate are passing away. 

I have feared your thoughts and feelings would dwell so much upon your 
affliction that it might leave you in a kind of melancholy. This should not 



64 IN Ml"-M' 'KIAM. 



be. It would be much better for you to liave your thoughts employed in 
active pursuits. 

I kiKjw worils are vain to bring consolation to the wounded heart ; but 
I wanted you to know my feelings toward you in this time of sorrow. 
Most sincerely your friend, 

JtillN M. TUAYKK. 

l-'rom the son of ex-Sciiator Hitchcock: 

(jMAiiA, Ni.i;., June 30, iSSi. 
II. IN. J. .Stkki.INc Morton: 

Dear Sir,— Father being confined to the house and unable to write this 
morning, I do so in his stead. 

I can do no more, however, tl)an to offer my father's deep sorrow at your 
loss and the heartfelt sympathy of many Omaha friends. 

.May her memory partly supply the place no longer tilled by her life. 
Most warmly, G. -M- Hitchcock. 

I'Voin Mr. Henry Strong, formerly President of the .\l( hison, 
'I'opeka and Santa Fe Railroad Co. : 

NOIMHWOUUSIDE, I.AKK (iKNKVA. luly 12. I SS 1 . 

Mv Di.AK .MouroN : 

I am deeply pained to learn of the deat'i of your wife. I was not even 
aware of her illness. I saw one of your sons in Montreil some two week-. 
since, and he did not mention her illne-s. 

Vou have my most sincere sympathy in tlii^ un-p.-akable bereavement. 
Faithfully yours, Henry Strong. 



CAROLINE JoV MORTON. 65 

From ex-U. S. Senator Paddock : 

Beatrick, January 26, 1882. 
My Dkar MdRioN : 

Y'ou may think because I diil ni)t write you a letter of condolence imme- 
diately after the death of your nolile wife that u e did not, ourselves;, mourn, 
and tliat we did not symiiathi/.e with you and yours in that terril)le bereave- 
ment. IJut I can truly say, for my wife as well as for myself, that the death 
of no one outside our own family ever caused us so much sorrow, and for 
no one have our iiearts been moved by a deei)er sympathy than for yourself 
in your sorrow and loneliness. 

I unilertook once to write, but I could find no word^ that seemed to me 
strong enough to i;ive true expression to the dee]) feeling that possessed my 
own heart, or that would carry comfort to you, ami I gave it up. T realized 
how weak the strongest wouM be, and I said to niy>elf: 1 shall see him 
after a little, an<l I will then try to tell him how sail our hearts have been. 
We admired and loved Mrs. Morton. We remembered how brave and reso- 
lute, how strong in her mental and physical organism she was, and it was 
almost impossible to believe the mournful truth even when confirmed to us. 

Vou two were so closely woven together in your lives, and in our thought 
of you, or either of you, that we could not see how you could be separated 
in this world. We could not see how eternal fitness, so perfectly exemplified 
in your apparent oneness of life, should be disturbed here even by death 
itself. My dear friend, I have thought of you vc-iy, vf.ry oftJn, and always 
with a heart full of sadness and deepest symp.uhy, remembering the desola- 
tion which this immeasurable loss has brought into your beautiful home, 
which the labor of her loving and skillful hands have done so much to 



66 IN MKMO'.vIAM. 



embellish, and from winch she, the chief aciornment of all, has been forever 
removed. I do not know how to help you bear your great burden. I wish 

I did. It is true each one of us, at tlic best, has iiis own burden, the wcii;lit 

whereof often seems to himself too oppressive to be borne; and yet most of 

these are only as the added weight made necessary for the fairness of the 

race, as compared witli yuur crusiiing load. May tiie great God help and 

strengthen and sustain you for tlic remainder of the journey whicli is left to 

you alone until the end. 

Very faithfully yours, A. S. I'.AUtKKK. 

From Mr. C. 1'^. IVrkins, President of the Chicago, Burling- 
ton <S: (^iiincy Raihoad Co. : 

CillCAcio, June 30, iSSi. 
My Dear Morto.n : 

I received the sad news last night by telegrajjh. I am well aware that 
noihing I can say or do can avail anything now. Mrs. Perkins is here 
with me, and we have sent some flowers, and you will know that you have 
our sympathy in your affliction. You had belter, after awhile, come away — 
come east, perhaps, and get iiUo some absorbing work as soon as you can. 
Yours, C. K. I'KRKiNs. 

Froni Mr. W. F. Store)', lulitor of the Chicago Times: 

(iKKKN Lakk, Wis., July 5, iSSi. 

MV 1)1, AK MoRTo.N: 

1 learn of your sorrow with the keenest regret. .Mrs. .Storey joins with 
me in thi^, and sends her kindest regards. With real sympathy, 1 am, 

\ery truly yours, W. 1'. .SroRKY. 



CAROLINE JOV MOKTOX. Qy 



From Dr. G. L. Miller, Editor of the Omaha Herald : 

M ,, ^, ^, Omaha, [uly 21, 18S1. 

-Mv Dr.AR Mr. .Miirtux: 

It i.s too Iicjt to move or go anywhere. I sulTer so much from heat, the 
freedom of my own Iiome is my imly relief This is my excuse for not 
going to Nel)raska City. 

I liope tliis note of cordial greeting will tln<l you gaining upon your posi- 
tion, a cool and brave philosopher, over your irreparable loss. 

Most truly yours, Geo. L. Miller. 

From Hon. O. P. Mason, ex-Chief Jti.stice of Nebraska : 

^ r c- ->, Lincoln, Xei;., July 7, 18S1. 

Hon. J. S. Morton, Nebraska City: - ^ /> 

Dear 5/;-,— Accept the sympathy and regrets of children and myself for a 
loss which cannot be restored, and which, with each departing year, will be 
more and more keenly felt. Let us hope that in this fact is a foreshadowing 
of a life beyond the grave and a reunion that is to be. At .such a time 
words are idle and vain : silence is the most e.>:pressive token of kindness. 
Yours truly, 

O. P. Mason. 

From U. S. Senator Pendleton, of Ohio : 

Cincinnati, July 5, 1S81. 
Hon. J. Sterlinc; Morton, Nebraska City: 

My Dear Friend— \ have just learned of your very great bereavement. 
I knovv that no words can now give you any comfort — time only can bring 



68 IN MKMOKIAM. 



that healing. But I cannot refrain from expressing my most sincere and 
sorrowing sympathy, and my affectionate friendship. Please let your sons 
know that llicir father's friend condoles with tlicm also. 

\'ery truly yours, Geo. II. Pe.nuleton. 

Nasiivii.i.k, August 13, 1 88 1. 
MoN. J. Steri.i.nt; Morton: 

Dear Sir, — Your letter of August 6th is before me. I thank you for your 
exceeding kindness in writing when your heart must he aching and void. 
The photographs were full of interest and pathos to us. How blesseil among 
men your sons are, to have been placed in relations so tender anfl^ sacred 
with her; and her memoiy must be to you a pearl of price, the fragrance of 
your lives. 

General Dana and our chihheii join me in best wishes for you all, and 

heartfelt sympathy. 

\'ours with respect and highest esteem, 

TlIESlA I).\NA. 

From Mrs. Lake, wife of the Chief Justice of Nebraska : 

Omaha. June 30, iSSi. 
Dear Mr. Morto.n :^ 

The sad news of Mr>. Morton's death reached us not an hour ago. 

Our liearts are filled witli sorrow for you and your dear children in this 
time of terrible and crushing aflliction. 

Mr. Lake joins me in extending to you and yours our deepest and most 
heartfelt sympathy. 

If love and condolence could soften one pang, lliere are many warm 



CAROI>INE JOY MORTON. 69 

hearts ready with comfort for you ; but, alas ! friends are powerless in an 
hour of such bitter and overwhelming grief, and words of condolence seem 
cold ami meaningless. 

We did not hear of Mrs. Morton's death in time, or we should have been 
with you to-day. With loving sympathy for yourself, for Lottie and Carrie 
(if they are witli you), and for all y(jur dear boys, 

I remain sincerely yours, Mrs. G. B. L.\KE. 

Omaha, Neu., June 30, 1S81. 
Dear Joy : 

I want to assure you of my sympathy for you in your great sorrow and 
grief. There is very little your friends can say that will comfort you ; but I 
do want you to know how deeply sorry I am for you all. Papa and mamma 
send their love with mine. 

Your sincere friend, Jessie Roddis. 

Dear Mr. Morton: 

Words, of course, are worse than nothing. The blow falls heavily upon 
us all. Will you, or one of the bcjys, send to me a ipiantity of Arbor 
Vitiu clippings? I do not want indifferent hands to touch them. 

C. E. SwKEr. 

CiiiCAco, July 22, 1881. 
Dear Friend Morton : 

I have just returned from the east and learned of your great sorrow. I 
will only ^ay at this time that my heart aches with yours. The great loss 
and pain is shared by all who knew her. Clod help you 1 

Your frientl, T. W. Harvey. 



70 IN MEMORIAM. 



Nashville, TenniuSSee, August 2, 1881. 
Dear Mr. Morton : 

The newspaper, with the sad news of the death of your dear wife, came 
to me. I thank you for the assurance you give General Dana and I, that we 
mourn willi you and your children, your most grievous loss. Full well do I 
know that the joy and beauty of your life has departed, and I pray Heaven 
will give you faith and courage to bear this heavy loss. For her, " \\itli 
angels and archangels and all the company of Heaven" — but for oui"selves ? 
I can think of you now as finding this jieriod even harder than the first 
profound moment, when death, so final, so illimitable, and beyond our power 
to penetrate, leaves us awed and silent before the inevitable. But when the 
daily uses of life come round, anil the heart tiiat loved so truly, so wholly, 
the eye that watched for your coming, and at a glance divined your wishes, 
anticipated and fulfdled them — when all tliat is gone, then is the lime "the 
heart knows its own bitterness." Do you recall tliose lines of James Russell 
Lowell, " After the Burial " ? Do re-read them. Give my love and sincere 
sympathy to your sons. Two of tliem I have rocked in their cradles; the 
others I have not seen, but love them ftir your sake and their mother's. 
How manly and filial in them to bear that beloved form to its last resting- 
place I I suppose "Carl" is a souvenir of his molher (hi^ name), since it 
was her noble fate to bear only men. 

(jod helj) you to endure that sad destiny we all must meet, when "one 
shall be taken and tiic ntlicr left." 

General Dana joins me, as do our children, in love and interest for you 
and your children, and jiity for your loss. 

\'ours with resjK'ct and high esteem, TiiKSTA Dana. 



CAROLINE JOV MORTON. /I 

Washington, July 19, 1881. 
My Dear Sir : 

I read tliis niornine; in one of our city papers of your late bereavement, 
and hope you will allow me the privilege of adding the expression of my 
sorrow and warm sympathy to what has been offered you by your many 
friends and admirers. There must lie mucli llial is manly and Sterling besides 
the name in a man who, ni so many ways and from so many sources wins 
such genuine feeling to his side upon occasion, and of these qualities you are 

evidently the possessor. 

Very truly yours, James Anglim. 

From Mrs. Dickey, wife of the President of Nebraska College: 

Bishop Talisot College, Nev.raska City, Wednesday. 
My Dear Carl: 

I cannot help sending you a few words of sympathy as I learn of your 
great sorrow. You cannot grieve that her great sufferings are over; but it is 
right to grieve that you have lost a loving mother, and right for us all to 
sorrow with you, as I assure you we do. \"ou will always be thankful that 
you have been so kind and thoughtful of her in her distressing illness. 

I, too, lost my mother when not quite so old as you. and I know that it 
is very hard to feel that one's life mu~t be spent without a mother's love and 
sympathy. 

But kind and loving hearts are all about you, aM<l you have still much to 
live for. I should be glad to do anything ni my jiower to comfort you. 
With much love, 

Mrs. II. M. Dickey. 



Jl IX MEMORIAM. 



Dktroit, Mich., July 4, iSSi. 
Dear Stkri.inc;: 

1 feel as if I must write and tell you how sincerely I sympathize with 
you, although I cannot hope to say anything that will comfort you. I did 
not know of Carrie's death until yesterday, when I saw the notice in the 
paper. I was quite .shocked, because the last news from Xcl)raska had been 
favorable. I never knew how much I loved Cousin Carrie until I was 
obliged to realize that she was gone. I certainly have reason .to think that 
I have lost one of my best friends — one from whom I have received many 
kindnesses, and with whom I have passed some of the liappiest days of my 
life. I have often wished that I could express to her my ajipreciation of all 
that she has done for me. I am very sorry no\\- that I tlid not go out to 
Joy's wedding; then I might have seen her once more. I know lliat Auntie 
and . Addie are feeling much love and sympathy for you. 1 saw Emma's 
letters yesterday at Will's, and it seemed to me a comforting as well as a 
beautiful thought, that the boys should have carried their mother t<i her last 
rest, (live my love to them all, especially Carl. I think the loss falls most 
heavily upon him, as he has never left home for good, as the others have 
done. 

Vour affectionate Cousin, Moi.l.lK MoRTdN. 

From Mr. (loddard, AttoriU'\- of llic Chicago, liurlington 

and (JiiiiK \- Raiiroatl Company : 

CiiKw^o, August 20, iSSi. 
Mv Di.AU McinoN : 

I found consideral)le work jiiled uj^ awaiting my return, and have just 

worked a hole through to the bottom of it ; so now I have a little leisure to 



CAROLINE TOY MORTON. 73 



say " thank you " for the liappy time and bounteous hosi>itaUty furnished our 
httle party by you, Aunty Emma and Carl. It is seldom "city folks" can 
enjoy such a rural treat and retreat as was our good fortune while at your 
beautiful home, and never do we expect to enjoy elsewhere as many hours 
of unalloyed rest, mingled with free social intercourse, with loved ones. . (_)f 
course that " vacant chair," which Cod and forgetful nature had made, was 
always near us, nor did we care to have the beautiful remembrance of its 
occupant leave our mind for an instant. 

We are all so glatl that our baby could cast a few rays of sunshine into 
your wounded heart, and we hope that you will furnish -occasion here in 
Chicago in the near future for the little one to attempt the same operation. 
• Again, we .assure you that our visit to your lovely home, with its delight- 
ful recollections of the " gentle savage," Col. Boudinot, and generous hospi- 
tality of yourself, mother and sister, will never fade from our remembrance. 

Mattie and children jfiin me in sending love to you all. 

Affectionately yours, L. O. GoDD.VRD. 

From J. Adams Allen, M.D., LT..D., Consulting Physi( ian 

of Mrs. Morton : 

Chicac.o, July 14, 1881. 
Mv Dear Morton : 

I have sat down to write to you a score of times since " Carrie " died, 

' and as many times I have >hrunk from the attempt. Good God ! what can 

I say to you outside of the usual platitudes? You know that you and yours 

have been dearer to me than any other friends on earth. I would have pur- 

cha.sed her life with my own, gladly, if that could have secured it. 



74 !><' MEMORIAM. 



Slie was a true woman, ])ctler even than you knew, until, face to face 
witli tlie loss of her, you found it out. 

The mother who instilled into those grand boys of yours the tenderness 
and manliness which characterize them, is one beyond my little panegyric. 
She was so far beyond little eulogisms, that my appreciation will not i)erniit 
me to attempt a word of praise or cold commendation. 

Death is the " inevitable chance," " the perpetual act of God's high par- 
liament." It is only a little while, and we shall each of us have to obey the 
mandate. 

I can say nothing to helj) you in this great grief, except the old, old 
words: Time will mellow the loss, and slowly, gradually soothe the intensity 
of sorrow. 

Amid the scepticisms of the day and against the cold-blooded philoso- 
phies, within my heart of heails — it may be a weakness of early train- 
ing — nevertheless I have ever felt there was somewhere a Higher Power, 
who doeth all things well. Her duties in life were well met. Her life 
extended beyond tlie average. The good she has done lives after her. She 
will live in your memory, and in the memories of all who knew her, as one 
whose life was l)ut a veil over her beautiful character — a veil which death 
tore away. 

I cannot write you, Morton, as I have written other friends in affliction. 
It seems too hard and grievous to me, who have wished you and yours hajv 
piness beyond what fails to the common lot. I have clierislied your friend- 
shi]) for me, in the darkest hours of my varied life, as among my most price- 
less treasures; and now, when the ilarkness of the shadow of death falls 



CAROLINE JOV MORTON. 75 

upon your houseliold, I am paujierized for words to express the depth of 
my sympathy. 

Will you forgive me thi> poor iiiadc(|uate note, and believe me ever, as 

of the old tune, 

Your cordial friend, ]. Adams Ai.i.kn. 



From Mr. George O. Manchester, Assistant General Manager 
of the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Raih-oad Co. : 

Toi'EKA, July 14, 1881. 
My Dear Morton : 

I cannot tell you how surprised and grieved I was at hearing the sad 
news of Mrs. Morton's death. 

I do not write with any hope of lightening the grief that is almost crush- 
ing you, but only to let you know that, at this Normwful moment, your 
friends rememl)er and sympathize with your loss. I know how heavy the 
Mow is which has fallen on you, and how dark and desolate must seem to 
you that beautiful home, so long brightened and gladdened l)y her ])resence ; 
and T know, too, that nothing I can say can be of any comfort to you, 
excejjt to recall the devotion of your life to her while she was with you. 
This should comfort you. 

My wife is now east at the sea-shore ; but, before leaving, she wished me 
to join the expressions of her sympathy with mine. 

As ever, your friend, 

Geo. O. Manchester. 



76 • IN MKMoRIAM. 



From Hon. H. M. Atkinson, Surveyor-General of New 

Mexico : 

Santa Fe, N. M., July 3, iSSi. 

MV DkAK (ioVKRNdR : 

I liave just seen, through the Omaha paj)crs wliich came to-tlay, lliat Mrs. 
Morton died on the 29th ult., and I ha.stcn to convey to you my earnest, 
heartfelt sympathy in your terrible ailliction. No one knows what utter deso- 
lation is until they have lost a wife, and especially so cstimahle a woman as 
your wife was. 

Xotiiing that I can say will serve to relieve the sadness of your heart ; 
and you know, my dear (Jovernor, that you have the earnest symi>athy of 
one \\ ho knows wliat a hlow it is to lose a good, true wife. 

\'ours sincerely, II. M. Atkinson. 

()MAIIA. Xki!.. July 4, iSSl. 
My Dkar Morton : 

I know that this letter will find you filled with grief at the loss of your 

dear wife. N'ou have, indeed, suflered a great affliction. A more faithful 

partner never lived, and few men, I venture to say, ever enjoyed more 

domestic tran(|uillity than yourself. A true wife and a devoted mother — no 

higher eulogy can be pronounced upon any woman. True, the great central 

sun of your household has gone down, and I deeply synijiathi/'e with nou in 

your affliction. Let us hope, however, in the language of .Scripture, " I go 

to prejiare a jilace for you" — that in the golden summer of another life, 

children, mother and father will gallier again in a sweet reunion where ]>art- 

ings are unknown. 

Kver vour friend. l". IIariman. 



CARULINK JOV MORTON. • ^7 



* Omaha, Nk.h., July i, 1881. 

My Dear Morton : 

The last few moments have brought me the information of the death of 
Mrs. Morton; and, with sorrow, I offer sympathy and condolence. I cannot 
write, much less tell you, of my feelings. The kindness and regard always 
manifested toward me by her was always appreciated ; and, in the future, the 
pleasant and kind recollections and remembrances will be cherished with 

devotion. 

Sincerely yours, F. P. Ireland. 

From Prof. B. Silliman, of Yale College: 

New Haven, July 22, 1881. 
My Dear Sir : 

Returning from the sea-side resort of my family, I fmd the Weekly Press, 
with the heavy news of your great affliction. 

Three years last March brought that bitterness to my life, after thirty eight 
of the happiest years which ever fall to human lot. We are in full sympathy 
now, as only they can be who have stood by the dark river and seen the 
passage of the blessed one to the unseen realms beyond, and from w hence no 
traveler returns. To me this total and absolute silence of all who have 
gone before is one of the hardest lines in all the lot our Father has 
drawn for us. Time assuages the violence of grief, but it does not heal its 
wounds or lighten its sorrow \ Life can no more be to us the same joyful 
season it has been so long. We live now in and for our children and their 
chiUlren, in which is joy, (|uiet and full of thankfulness. 

Yours very sincerely, 15- Sii.I.iman. 



78 IX MKMoklA-M. 



Indianapolis, July 9, 1881. 
Friend J. S. Morton, Nebraska City: 

A mother and wife is gone ; and woman never lived that tilled the posi- 
tion better. What more can I say, except that you have my deepest sym- 
pathy ? Well do I remember the evening that I went to your house to dine, 
as my wife was gone, and I could think of no place to go but to your house, 
because Mrs. Morton was there, not then only, but always. She met mc with 
a smile, a jileasant word, and good advice when 1 gave her oppoitunitv. 
The deatli of but few persons will bring tears to my eyes, but she was one 
of those. Sympathy from men and women high in life, with honor, fame 
and wealth : this is from neither, and you will ajipreciate my feelings the 
more. All I can say, I am your fiiend, and the friend of those that are left. 

W. M. HiCKLlN. 

Washington Offick, Tiif. Chicaco Timi-s, July 11, iSSi. ' 
Mv Di.AR Morton: 

When I came in this morning, Mrs. Crawford was in tears. The news 
came with a great shock to all of us, for you must know that we have 
always looked up to you and Mrs. Morton as models. We have liojied that 
we might continue ourselves as well united and as much bound up in each 
other as you were. We can only think of dear Mrs. Morton as well, liright, 
and one of the happiest women upon the face of the earth. To think of her 
as having ])asse(l away from this life i> almost impossible. It must be a 
.source of great comfort to you now to know that it has been your life-long 
study to make licr happy. I know how idle are ordinary words of sympathy. 
We who loved .Mrs. Nb)rton so well, and have looked forward to sometime 



CAROLINE JOY MORTON. 79 

visiting her at Arbor Lodge, send you our sincerest greeting and most tender 
sympathy. You have your four nolile l^oys left to you. One of the most 
beautiful things in the mention made of Mrs. Morton's fmal homegoing was 
the description of your four manly sons acting as Ijcarers of their noble 
mother to her la>t resting-place. 

If we could in any way lift in the slightest degree the burden of your 
loss, we would be very happy. 

Sincerely, T. C. Ckawi-okd. 

New York, July 8, 1S81. 
My Dear Friend : 

Senator Paddock has this moment sjiown me the announcement of Mrs. 
Morton's death, which is a surjirise and shock to me. 

I \\i>h I could offer wortls of consolation, Ijut I know full well that under 
such affliction tliere is nothing one can say to assuage the anguisli of the 
stricken one. 

Believe me, dear friend, my heart goes out to you in deep and tender 
sympathy. Your loss is irreparable. No one on earth can till the place of 
that good, noble wife and mother ; but 'tis our connnon fate. Yet a little 
while, and we, too, must fold our hands for eternal sleep. Let us see to it 
that we are as ready as she was when the ilread sunmujns comes. 

Faithfully your friend, jNo. McGlN.Nls, Jr. 

Watertown, N. Y., July 20, 1S81. 
My Dear Sir : 

The news of the terrilde blow w hicli has fallen upon your household was 

a great shock to us. JJoth Mr. Clark and myself recall with great pleasure 



<So IX MKMORIAM. 

our brief acquaintance with Mrs. Moiion, and we try to assure you that, in 
this hour of great Ijereavement, from our hearts we sorrow with you. If the 
sympathy of friends and a whole community could lighten the burden of your 
grief, then you will all be comforted, for the church and society, as well as 
her own loved ones, are bereft to-day ; all are mourning with you. I can 
only add that we trust strength will be given those she held so tenderly to 
bear the tearful, heavy cross, which I know full well, in their broken-heart- 
edness, is .so hard to bear. 

Sincerely yours, El,IZ.\ N. Clakk. 



Wasiiingto.n, D.C, July 5, iSSi. 

I1..N. J. .S. .Morton: 

Dcujr Sir, — I orter you the sincere sympathy of my mother and myself in 
this most terrible allliction. May the Comforter, who never fails to hear the 
cry of the sorrowful, give you strength to bear this burden of grief. 

Respectfully, Coknki.ia H. 1I.\kv£V. 

Indki'K.ndknck, August 3. iSSi. 
Mk. J. SiKKi.iNc Morton : 

My Dcitr /■'n'liid, — \'ou and your children have my warmest svmpathies. 

A great loss to you and them. None knew Mr>. .Morton but to love her; 

and the many plea.sant hours I have spent with you and her 1 shall ever 

hold sacred while life shall last. .My wife joins with me in best wishes to 

yoii and family. 

Vour true friends, 

A. J. Lolili ANIl J. A. I.Olil!. 



CAROLINE lOV MORTON. 8 1 



June 20, 1 88 1. 
My Dear Friknd: 

The sad news of the death of your noble, good wife has just readied me, 
and I cannot help writing of my heartfelt sympathy. Evei7 day of the many 
years I have known Mrs. Morion has Ijeen so full of what the good Book 
calls loving-kindness, so full of true Christian helpfulness to others, that we 
cannot (save for our loss) grieve for a moment at her exchange of this dreary 
life, with its death, for eternity with its life. This painful experience of 
yours, my dear friend, vividly recalls to my mnid all the sad incidents con- 
nected with the death of my own dear one, which I am unable to dwell 
upon at length in thought ; but the kind sympathy then and since shown me 
by yourself and dear Mrs. Morton, touched my heart very deeply. I would 
that I could say some words of relief save those of sympathy ; but the heart 
knows its own sorrows best. There are sorrows that are called sweet, inas- 
much as they help us to be more tender, more patient, and more thoughtful 
of that dear "to-morrow life," when we shall again meet our dear ones; 
and I earne>tly hope and pray that this sad loss may prove such a sweet to 
you, and meet with its greatest blessing. 

Believe me, truly your friend, J. W. Moore. 

New York, July 21, iSSi. 
My Dear Friend Morton : 

The notice of the demise of your dear w ife was a surprise to me, although 
Mr. Chandler, when here, expressed serious doubts about her ultimate recov- 
eiy. Since she could not recover, and only be a sufferer, it is well for her; 
but what can I say to you, from whose heart she was torn by cruel fate, 
leaving wounds that cann jt be reached by any medical skill, nor alleviated 



82 IN Ml.MoKIAM. 



by the consolation ofl'ered l)y frk-nds, however sincere? It is time ah)ne that 
can heal the scars left on you, and I trust tiiat you will reach lliat point of 
consolation soon hy the aid of your boys, of whoni everybody who knows 
them is proud, and in whom the memi^ry of their splendid mother will 
always remain " green." 

^'our sincere friend, Louis A. (iKASS. 

Lansinc, Muh., Sejnember 5, iSSi. 
My Dkar Stkri.ini; : 

I appreciate fully how poor and insufficient any words of consolation or 

sympathy I may offer you will appear in trying to soften your sorrow over 

this irreparable loss which has come to you in your home, in the calmest and 

best days of your life. It i-' the greater and more keenly fell when such a 

pure and noble life has been so early taken from you — a loss greater because 

of the incomparable character and nobleness of life of the friend that has left 

you. He as>ured I most sincerely feel for you, and the more keenly from 

just having lost my mother, and not long ago my elde>t boy — mi-~foi"tunes 

that brought great sorrow to my own home. 

Ever your old frieiul, S. I.. Smuii. 

l!<i/.i.MAN, M. T., Septendier 4. 18S1. 
My Dkar Mr. Morton: 

I give you my deepest sympathy, but consolation I cannot offer. Tlnough 

what you have ])as^ed and are jiassing, I have ])assed, and know — oh, so 

well I — what a bitter trial it is. Time, they say, can help us; but, as yet, it 

has done little for me. The wouml, of course, heals over, but the scar will 

always remain. 



CAROLINE JOV MOR TON. 83 



It sccm> impossible to rcali/e tiiat she, who was >o full of life and ambi- 
tion, so bright and gay, has gone, never to return! From among all her old 
friends, she will be sadly missed, while you — you are desolate, but will have 
to live on, though all is so changed, and the future looks so dreary. 
Poor little Carl! He needed his mother yet. 

With kindest remembrance, I remain your friend, 

Mrs. CiUssie B. I'i.ack. 

IJell.muk, OiiU), July 9, 1881. 
Hon. J. Sterlinc; Morton: 

My Dear .SV;,— Having just stopped at this place on my return liome 
from an eastern trip, I am startled with the intelligence of the death of .Mrs. 
Morton. 

Please accept my most heartfelt sympathies in this great sorrow which has 
befallen you. I can hardly realize that your happy family, so long unbroken, 
has now lost one whom you all so much love.l, and at a time, too, when you 
were just getting ready to enjoy the fruits of your past labors in your beauti- 
ful home at Arbor Lodge. May the Dispenser of all gooil heli) to heal the 
wounds caused by this sad bereavement, is the wish of 

Yours sincerely, A. C. Cowpertuw.MTE. 

Chraco, July 5, 1881. 
My Dear Morton : 

The sympathy of your friends and relations, at this time of your terrible 

bereavement, can afford but little balm to a wounded heart. Vet it would 

seem a cruel forgetfulness of duty were I not to express the sudden shock of 

sorrow which came upon us here when we learned of your poor Carrie's 

G 



84 IN MEMORIAM. 



death. It had seemed to us that nature would triumph over the disease, and 
that, if there was anything like Providence working in the ways of this 
world, He would he just for once and spare her, if not for those who loved 
her, then for womankind, as a model for all that is lovely, gentle, beautiful 
and good. 

Mattie joins me in wishing and hoping that a bu.sy life may soon succeed 
in dispelling the clouds of despair which now hang over your house, and that 
many years of contentment and pleasure may follow for you and your afflicted 
children. 

Sorrowfully yours, L. O. C'.odd.ard. 

Gf.nf.va Laki:. .Vugust 4, iSSi. 
My Dear Sterling : 

It was not that my heart was not full of sympathy for you that I have 

not written to you sooner, l)ut it was i)ecause it seemed to me words didn't 

mean enough. One verse of the poem, " .\fter the Burial," kept coming to 

my mind ; something like this : 

" Console if you will ; I c.iii bear it ; 
'Tis a well meant alms of breath ; 
I'lit tell me, my friend, 
If ever since Ailam 
Dentil lias been aIlylbill,^' else than tleatli." 

\i)U will get my idea, though my quotation is not (|uite correct. 

1 remember when I was aI)out twenty, and my only sister, who was ten 
years my senior, and who was my only friend and companion and counselor, 
died, that the common-place expressions of sympathy and condolence (though 
I knew that liiey were earnest and well meant) almost made me angry. I 
rebelled, and I think I got more comfort in my rebellion iIhxii anythiii-' else ; 



CAROLIM-: JOY MORTON. ^5 



at all events, I could get no comfort or consolation out of what any one else 
said or thought. What dues any one else know of your loss, and how can 
they make it easier liy mere talk ? 

Yours sincerely, X. K. Faiuiunk. 

North ISI'IANch, July 23, 1881. 
Mr Morton : 

Dear Sir, — In the death of Mrs. Morton I keenly realize that 1 have lost 
a good friend — one of the few who seemed to take an interest in my wel- 
fare and never lost an opportunity to speak a kind word in my behalf. 

Appreciating the many favors I have received at the hands of Mrs. 

Morton and yourself, 

I am, sincerely your friend, CarkiIs Swansox. 

Helena, Ark., July 30, 18S1. 
J. S. Morton: 

My Dear Sir. — I reached home la^t evening, after an absence of some 
weeks in the mountains, and the Xel^raska press of date 9th instant, contain- 
ing the announcement of the death of Mrs. Morton, was handed me. To say 
that I deeply sympathize with you in your sad loss but feebly expresses the 
fact. Mrs. Morton's identification with the early occupation of Nebraska, her 
kind recognition of the wayward pioneers of the country, her charity and 
obliviousness to their manifest errors and indiscretions, her home hospitality 
and geniality of manner, endeared her to all acejuaintances. To society gen- 
erally her loss is a sad fact ; to yourself and her boys the incitlent is 

irreparal)le. 

Your friend, \V. E. MooRE. 



86 I\ MEMORIAM. 



* Crawford Home, N. II., July 12, 1S81. 
My Dear Sterling : 

Emma's letter, telling us the sad tidings, came to us like a thunderbolt, 
for we did not dream but that dear Carrie was rapidly recovering, and were 
full of hope. 

I can hardly see to guide my pen — the tears of grief and love are 
blinding; but I felt I must write you, even before I can say a word to poor 
Emma. I can say nothing just now, but only give you the silent, warm 
hand-clasp, with sympathy born out of sufi'ering. I did so hope you would 
be sparetl this life-long sorrow, but God willed it otherwise, and " He knoweth 
best." This parting must come sooner or later, and always must bring its 
bitterness and anguish. But soon — ah I soon — we learn to look up, realizing 
that this is not our home, and then we look forward to the meeting beyond, 
where there are no more parlings or death. 

Patience, my dear cousin. Emma writes you are very brave. 1 knew you 
would be, if only for her dear sake. Vou have still many dear ones left to 
comfort you — all your noble sons, and now you have daughters, too. your 
dear mother and Emma. All these seem as nothing now. The light is 
gone out from your home; but in God's good time your heart will turn back 
to them for the sympathy and love that always came from her. '• as one 
whom his mother comforteth." May He be near to cheer ami bless you 
through all the steps of your desolate way. None other can comfort — believe 
me — I have struggled through ail tiie weary way, until at la>t I found Ilim 
the bles'-ed way, that leads us int<j liglit and peace. 
Tearfully but prayerfully yours, 

Maria I.oiise Kkndai.i.. 



CAROLINE JOY MORTON. 8' 



Chicago, July 14, 1881. 
Mr. Morton: 

Jl/f Dear Friend, — We all feel Carrie's death decjily. It was so unex- 
pected to us, and we can only acknowledge that the affliction is God's will. 
\ et it is very hard to see any comfort in such a dispensation, though you 
have one great comfort — your sons. 

Yours truly, Laura Wakkfield. 

>, .. J"'y 2, 1881. 

Mr. Morton : 

Just a year ago, when our " golden circle " was broken and death took 
away our only child, and we were sorely afflicted by the same sorrow that 
has recently fallen upon you, Mrs. Morton was the first one to come with a 
heart full of sympathy, and bring beautiful flowers for the dear little girl that 
was to lie laid away from us forever. Now that it is your turn to have a 
part of your very self leave you, and your heart and home made lonely by 
the absence of her whose life was so closely intertwined with yours, I feel as 
if I must offer you a few words of condolence. I well know how idle words 
may seem now, yet there is a pleasure in knowing our friends are willing and 
ready to share our sadness with us. ^Yhile Mrs. Morton could not count me 
with her old friends, as our acquaintance and friendship dated back only a 
few years, had our friendship been longer and more intimate, I could not 
remember her with more respect and sincere regard than I do. From her I 
have received many courtesies and acts of hospitality, and recall many delight- 
ful moments spent in her society. 

Yours sincerely, Mrs. IIknry Sheldon. 



IN MEMORIAM. 



Mount Pleasant, Nebraska, July 14, iSSi. 
J. Sterling Morton: 

Dear Mr. Morlofi^, — We have heard of the great loss you have experi- 
enced in the death of dear Mrs. Morton, and we feel we would like to 
express our sympathy for you in this time of trouble. We know what it is 
to see our loved ones pass tlnough the " valley of the shadow of death," and 
feel that there is a vacant place at the hearthstone that can never be filled ; 
a void in the hearts of those that are left that nothing luu the presence and 
love of the Father can ease. 

We reniem])er with gratitude your letter of symjiathy when we were 

bereaved of a dear husband and father, (live our love and sympathy to your 

sons. 

Mrs. Sar.mi M. Winslow, 

Jennie T. Howard, 

Kate W. Davis. 

Chicago, June 30, 18S1. 
Mv Dear Kriend: 

How you are afllicted ! I wish I could say the right words; but, oh, 
what are the right words at such a lime I I have been through it, and know 
loo well how liltle anybody can heli) when we are thus torn up. I should 
like to sit by your side anil (:|uietly bow my head and bear the pelting of 
this pitiless storm, if I might, along with you; but, alas I you must tiead 
the winepress almost alone. 

May Heaven sustain you in this unspeal<able trial, \\\ comparison with 
which all else in this world is light indeed. 

N'ours afleclionaulv, Wiui DE.xrEK. 



CAROLINE JOY MORTON. 89 



Chicago, Tuly c, 1881. 
My Dear Friend: . 

Personally it was my privilege to have met Mrs. Morton but few times. 
Inn I know that no one in Nebraska was more widely known or more uni- 
versally and deservedly respected and loved. Her wonderfully active, useful 
life, and unobtrusive good deed., endeared her to all. .She leaves a most 
worthy and endming monument in the noble sons, who, blessed by the cher- 
ishing care and guidance of such a mother, have lived to bless her in return 
by the splendid manhood they have developed and the hon(jral>le positions 
they worthily fill. From my inmdK heart I extend to you and yours my 
warmest symjiathy. 

A. J. IlARDiNr;. 

I.nri.E Rock, Ark., 1881. 
Mv Dear Poor Friend Morton: 

Voorhees showed me yesterday a paper containing tlie distressing intelli- 
gence of the death of Mrs. Morton. No words from mortal Yips can soften 
the great anguish of your heart. 

God bless and sustain you in your grievous affliction. 

Your ever faithful friend, K. C. BOUDINOT. 

Siorx City, Iowa, July 14, 1881. 
J. Steri.inc Morton, Esq.: 

Di-ar /;7c«^/,— Please accept the heartfelt sympatliy of myself and wife in 

this hour of your sad bereavement, and may (iod look after and care for the 

noble father and sons that are left to mourn her departure. 

Sincerely yours, A. F. Na.sh. 



90 IX MEMORIAM. 



Home, July 3* 1881. 
Mr. Morton : 

To-day, Sunday, I cannot help thinking of you. Associated thoughts of 
long years have made my heart ache for you all .spring. 

What can be said to comfort? Nothing, unless in the old couplet — 

" Earth hath no sorrow 
That heaven cannot heal." 

Surely with your guiding star, the Angel of Peace must hover near. May 
God bless you and your noble sons, is the prayer of 

Your sincere friend, Mrs. Wm. Ffi.TON. 



Cl'UiKRTSON, NkI!., Julv 3, 18S1. 

Hon. J. .Stkri.in(; Morton: 

Dear Friend, — I received by yesterday's mail the sad news of the death 
of your wife. A faithful wife, a loving mother and an esteemed neighbor 
has passed from the visible to the in\isil)!e. Mortal has put on immortality. 
The link that Imund your famil)- ties so closely together is now .severed, only 
to lie again united in the Spirit-land. You have my heartfelt symjiathy in 
the hour of your sore affliction, and may Clod, who doeth all things well, 
sustain and comfort you. Hut a few more years at longest, and we too must 
pay the same penalty ]5ronounced ui>i)n all. My ]irayer is, that we may be 
ready when the summons comes to (.nter into the joys of everlasting life and 
meet our loved ones in that better lan<l. 

I remain your true friend, 

I. I. IloCII.STKTI.KR. 



CAROl.lNK lOV MORTON. 9I 



Fairfif.i.d, Xf-'.h., July 12, 1881. 
Hon. J. Stf.rling Morton : 

Dear Sir, — It is witli sincere sorrow we read the news of Mrs. Morton's 
death. It seems to us like severing one of tlie few cherished ties that bind 
us to the past, for the memory of the pleasant days we spent under the same 
roof, and tlie kinchiess and consideration with wliicli we have ever been 
treated, will always remain one of our mo>t hallowed recollections. Please 
accept the assurance of our most heartfelt sympathy with you in your bereave- 
ment, and believe us 

Ever your sincere friends, 

J.vMES M. .\Ni) Annie Fi.vnn. 
Lincoln, Neb., March 26, 1882. 
Mr. J. Steri.ino Morton, Arbor Lodge : 

Mv Dear Frk7id,— ]&?,?\c and I received the pictures of your wife which 
you so kindly sent us a few days ago. We wish to thank you for them, and 
to tell you how much we value them. We very often think and speak of 
her, and it makes her seem more near us to have such an excellent likeness 
of her as that is. Truly, if it were not for the bright IJcyond we l'ii07i< is 
coming, we could not bear the parting with our dear ones. Many men, with 
an air of superior understanding, say " Religion and super>tition will always 
enthrall woman, for ^,he is a creature subservient to feeling, sentiment, etc. ' 
What belter, truer guide can we hnd ? If there is anything inspired in the 
universe, if there is anything divine in man, it is the instinct, the feeling and 
the faith, and by this test we /oiozo we .shall see them again. May we all 
have strength to wait patiently till then I 

Yours most truly, Gr.vce A. M.\soN. 



THE BURIAL AT EVENTIDE. 



Adown the west, all gloriously, was sweeping 

The fervid sun of a midsummer day, 
When one, from her fair home — cold in death sleeping 

Was borne, for whom was no returning way — 
Borne to the "silent city," to whose keeping 

We yield our loved ones when life's spark is sped ; 
Where'er life is, is heard the voice of weeping. 

But peace her wing folds o'er the hallowed dead. 

Ah, dreamless sleepers 1 banished now far from you 

Are all harsh sounds of turmoil and unrest ; 
Earth's arrow-ills no more have power to wound \ou, 

Sacred your place of slumber, trancjuil, blest. 
The stately river hath no retrogression. 

But to the ocean bears its mighty wave. 
And thus, unresting, mo\eth death's procession, 

\N'ith life, to this life's bourne, the shrouding grave. 



94 I-"^' MKMoKIAM. 

O kindly mother Earth ! unto th\- kcL'])ing 

We now resign this dear one, safe with thee, 
To wait the morning of the resurrection, 

When soul and body shall united be. 
And beautiful it seemed, that her dear sons, 

Oft hushed to happy slumber on her breast, 
^Vith gentle, reverent hands, should be the ones 

To lay her down to sweet, untroubled rest. 

And hark '. amid the green leaves o'er us wreathing. 

How the winds seem to whisper, soft and low. 
Like s])irit voices, tremulousl\- breathing 

.\ requiem sweet for her who sleeps below. 
Slow fades the day, though gloriously, in dving. 

The sun bright death-clouds doth around him fold : 
Those clouds glad morning-})romise are supphing — 

Life's triumph promise, in the sunset's gold. 

.\n(l. while the pale moon brightened in the ijluamini:, 
.And (|uiet stars gathered aroimd ni<,dit's throne. 



CAROLINE JOY MORTON. 95 

I could but tliink how sad was the returning 

To that lorn house that could not seem like home ; 

No wife and mother there with welcome waiting, 
With voice of cheer and ever ready smile — 

Waiting for dear ones with glad words of greeting — 
But loneliness usurps her place the while. 

But even death no power has to sever 

Our thoughts, our souls, from loved ones "gone before"; 
Still of our li\es they seem a part, and ever 

Seem loving us ; and we, we love them more : 
And lo\e can brighten all life's darksome way, 

And parted ones shall find their bliss complete 
When on grief's night is dawning radiant day, 

For joy comes in the morning when they meet. 

Lo, the f:iir flowers, when the chill frost-blight falleth, 

Seem they ncjt dead in winter's icy tomb? 
When loving Springtime t(^ her nurslings calleth. 

Joyous they hear her voice, and Earth's abloom. 



96 IN MEMOKIAM. 



(iod is our Spring, and when He calls, "awaken!" 
His voice goes echoing o'er death's shores of gloom ; 

Earth hears — the sea obeys — death's powers are shaken, 
And whom we now call dead, in life immortal bloom. 

a. isaheli.e hortox. 
Nebraska Citv. 



THE RESURRECTION AND THE LIFE. 

(subjective.) 



I. 

Sayest thou, "There is saddest marvel 
In the change that we undergo ; 

A (juick, fierce throb, and the heart is still, 
And the red blood stops in its flow? 

" That there comes an end to affection 
When all love can do, it is done"? 

Once, and I scoffed at the gift of life, 
With such ill under the sun. 

II. 
I was watching alone at midnight — 

Watching the face of my dead ; . 
On her breast I had lain white lilies,. 

On her pillow j)ut roses red. 



98 IN MEMORIAM. 



Fiut, nothing to me were the lilies, 
And as naught were the roses red ; 

Only her hand had nurtured the blooms, 
So I strewed them on her bed. 

And I sat in a bitter musing, 

Through tlie dark night's loiu-l}' liouis; 
The while the wind from the orcliard boughs. 

Scattered the orchard tlowers — 

Down breaking llie promise ot" May-lime, 
And robbing the autumn of fruit : 

I said, " Thus endeth the lt)il of a man : 
Thus faileth each fond i«ur>uit." 

And my heart, it (|uailed in its anguish; 

'I'hat night I was tauglit of the wt)e 
The soul that is in the world alone. 

And but li\es for itself, must know. 



CAROTJNK JOY MORTON. 99 



III. 

From the east shot streaks of the dawning — 
Dawn's pencilings, purple and bright; 

The glad, s\veet songs of the l)irds arose, 
An anthem of greeting to liglit : 

Rose the sun, and the niglit winds were quiet 
The night winds, so cruel and stnjng ; 

Ah ! joy cometh back with the morning, 
Though night it be Aveary and long. 

For, are we not made in such foshion — 
The chords of the si)irit so strung — 

That the Feather of Spirits, these answer. 
When the strings by His fingers are rung. 

I was not aware of the process — 

Knew not these were touches divine — 

But saw, in the sun, that the dew-drops 
With glamour of opals did shine. 



lOO IN MEMORIAM. 



And marked the full flow of the day spring, 
Saw the black sky brighten to blue, 

Felt quickening life in the moving earth, 
As the quivering motion grew. 

It was not that my reason could follow 
This passing from death into life; 

'Twas the undertone in a song of war, 
That doth promise an end to strife. 

Then 1 turned from the open window, 
Looked down on the moveless dead ; 

The face had calm, as a saint of God, 
When the doubt is gone, and dread. 

I tell thee — say not it was fancy — 
In my soul a seed there was sown, 

Of faith, whi( h is strongest assurance — 
A faith with the Nc'ars that has i/rown. 



CAROLINE TOY MORTON. lOI 



Then knew I, the life is not ended 
When its work in our world is done : 

Shall the night break forth into morning? 
Shall the fruit from the germ be won? 

And shall love lose its full fruition? 

Shall duty have only to-day? 
Shall the leal who carry life's crosses 

Pass by, as the clouds pass away? 

Clouds cannot pass till their fullness 
Hath entered the tilth as rain ; 

Dew that dissolves, there is chemic art 
Resolves into golden grain. 

Death, in the world, lo ! it is not; 

From changes new life the earth takes : 
Shall God so clothe the grass of the field, 

And Slav the man-soul that He makes? 



102 IX MEMr)RIAM. 

Whatever He doeth is perfect ; 

There is nauglit that hinders His plan ; 
For life that must last He graveth deep 

Love — hope, in the heart of a man. 



"Dead," still thou sayest, "the wife that I love, 
And I l)uried the dead form deej)." 

Nay; since that sun did {-ontpier that niL,dit, 
Death hath not my treasure to keep. 

IV. 

Vet, why do I tell thee this stor)-, 

AVhile darkness around thee is drawn? 

Ilajjly, the Master may take my clay 
To open tliine eyes to the dawn. 

The light shineth white in the darkness, 

Rut, unseen of the blinded eye; 
Douht is that duUeth the hearing ear, 

So it heeds not the morn's watih-cry. 



CAROLINE lOV MORTON. IO3 



Still, never is glimmer of sunshine, 
Water drop in a bubbling well, 

Nor a tree that the hard soil beareth, 
Which doth not life's mystery tell. 

The Lord of Life hath the secret of life ; 

From thee fear maketh it far ; 
But, brother of mine, the life is thine — 

Is more than the life in a star. 

The star it will change in its fashion — 
Though change is not death, as I trow; 

Our breath, of His breath is very part, 
Our change is a passing show. 

We change; ah, we strip off a garment; 

We pass a brief threshold step by ; 
But the life, that is not the raiment. 

In the step, lo '. soul doth not die : 



I04 IN MKMORIAM. 

The Lord of Life hath the secret of life, 
The work of His liands shall endure; 

In cloiuK in star, in soul of a man, 
Each life by His being is sure. 



Oscar A. Mii.lon. 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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